Title: Paradise

Author: Karen

Fandom: Alias Smith and Jones

Paring: Curry/Heyes

Rating: PG

Status: New, complete

Archive: Yes, please archive this.

Disclaimers: Universal Studios own them; no copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Just a little relaxing evening.

Warnings: None

Jedediah Curry, known to most people—especially those who'd never actually met him—as Kid Curry, turned left instead of right this time and ambled down the street, looking around. He wasn't looking at, or for, anything in particular, though after several years his partner's obsessive caution had rubbed off a little bit, and if they had to leave town in a hurry, Curry now knew five different ways to do it. But he wasn't anticipating that. He was just out for good, long walk, to work off some of his nervous energy.

He had a lot of nervous energy, and always had. It had gotten him in a lot of trouble as a boy. When it was genuinely necessary he was capable of stillness, physical and verbal, but his definition of "necessary" hadn't matched that of his school teachers. He'd been right glad when his father had said, "Jed ain't cut out to be a scholar," and pulled him out of school when he was twelve. His mother had been somewhat disappointed, but he hadn't. After all, he could read, write, and figure: what more did a man need to be able to do? Especially with a war goin' on and all.

Not that he'd had much to do with the war, except that Jeremiah and Josiah, his older brothers, had both joined the Union Army, and neither had come back. In east Kansas, now, around Lawrence especially, there'd been war since the Kansas-Nebraska Act, when he was two. But in the west, out past Dodge City, there was too much going on day to day to mess with that. And slavery? That was just a word to young Jed, as apt to be applied by Jerry to their father's demands on a young man's time as to negroes. Curry hadn't even seen a negro till he was seventeen, and long gone from Kansas.

But the war had been backgound to his life until he'd turned fifteen, when his father had died in one of those vicious and stupid fights that had been growing more and more common. That had been the day Jed

had turned into Kid, though even he hadn't realized for some time. It had been the day he'd decided that no man, no man, would ever hold the power of life and death over him because he didn't know how to defend himself.

Now, eleven years later, there probably weren't a dozen men in the Territories that could take him in a fair fight, and most of those were too smart to get into one with him. After all, men like them knew they were good, and didn't need to prove it just to prove it. The $7,500 on his head proved it for Curry. He didn't need to go around killing people to add to his rep.

The last time he'd killed somebody, two months ago now, it hadn't been for his rep, anyway. It had been to protect the most important person in his life, his partner Hannibal Heyes. Heyes's price tag was equal to Curry's but he wasn't a shootist; he was a thinker. Well, and a locksmith and safe-cracker, sure, but mostly a thinker. He could take care of himself, but Curry didn't like to let him. Or make him, rather. That was why he was there, after all, so Heyes didn't have to.

Not that he minded. Not even a little bit. Especially not now, these last few months. Oh, Curry knew what the world said about people like him and Heyes. What his folks would have said, the preachers, the boys in the Devil's Hole Gang... hell. Anybody. But he didn't give a good goddamn what anybody else said.

All that mattered was what Heyes said. "Let's leave the value judgments out of it, Kid. You're a good man." That before he'd even thought about it, let alone kissed him. Now he said things like, "You're like having the sun in my arms, Kid; you warm and illumine me through and through. Don't ever leave me."

Like there was a chance of that. Heyes was his whole life. He'd never figure why the other man loved him, but his mother had said once, about another couple altogether, "The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing." As far as he was concerned, Heyes was it. The be-all and end-all. He'd been with women, and it was nothing like being with Heyes. Looking into Heyes's dark eyes from an inch away and seeing himself reflected there, falling asleep with Heyes's heartbeat under his ear, seeing Heye's rare smile—the real one,not the one he hid behind with strangers—and knowing it was there for him... Nothing and no one in the world mattered that much.

That Heyes was a man was, well, beside the point.

Of course, it did make it difficult. He couldn't say things to Heyes in public he'd like to say, couldn't let other people know he had a claim staked. Sure as hell couldn't touch Heyes except casually.

But then, again, that was probably just as well. Touching Heyes always set him on fire.

He came to a stop at the next intersection. Across the street was a lady in one of those new colors, a brilliant purplish red. He almost pointed it out to Heyes, who'd spent an hour a couple of days earlier trying to explain how you got dyes from coal tar, before remembering that Heyes wasn't with him at the moment. His partner didn't like long walks, so he was back at the hotel. It wasn't that Heyes was lazy, he could walk as long as necessary, but at the end of the journey he wanted something besides the place he'd started from. And if he had any nervous energy, he burned it off thinking.

Curry grinned. Heyes thinking was one of his favorite things in the world. Of course, Heyes doing pretty much anything was good... but Heyes thinking was a pretty thing.

In fact, Curry decided, he'd had about as much walking as he wanted for the moment. Any nervous energy he still had he could figure out another way to burn off. Plus any energy Heyes might have accumulated

sitting around...

Sitting. Energy. Nervous energy... Hell, Heyes positively vibrated with tension most of the time, though you'd never know it just to look at him. Curry couldn't figure out how anyone as tense as Heyes was could spend all that time just sitting, still as a cat waiting on a mouse, except he didn't have a tail to twitch. And wouldn't have twitched it if had, either. Relaxing Heyes wasn't easy. Curry was proud of himself that he could do it.

He crossed the street and headed back toward the hotel. He touched his hat to the lady in the brilliant dress as he went past and returned her smile, but the days were past when he was tempted to stick around and strike up a conversation. Sure, the ladies were fine, but all the lovin' he wanted or needed was waiting for him in the hotel. And getting better all the time, too. It was just a couple of months ago that he'd decided to try out that insult, see if there was anything to it. He'd waited till one night when Heyes was as relaxed as he could get, after a long hot bath and a good meal, and he'd helped him along with a back rub, and then when Heyes was damn near purring, he'd done it. And while Heyes had certainly liked it, to put it mildly, which Curry had figured he would, the funny thing was that Curry had liked it a hell of a lot too.

He hadn't been very good at it that first time, nearly choking himself twice and not at all ready for the climax, but he'd gotten a lot better. And Heyes was pretty good at it, too... Curry's steps quickened as he entered the hotel.

They had a room on the third floor, a single. They'd gotten singles more often than not even before they'd become more than trail buddies. Singles were cheaper than two rooms, and safer. Nobody ever questioned it. Now of course sharing a bed was a need no matter how much money they had.

Curry climbed the stairs two at a time. He hadn't seen Heyes outside or downstairs so he was assuming his partner was in the room. He opened the door carefully saying "Heyes" quietly as he did so, and was rewarded by the sight of the dark-haired man sound asleep on the bed. Heyes had always been able to fall asleep around him, but it had taken almost two years for the man not to wake up as soon as Curry came into the room. The day Heyes had told him he felt safe when he was around, Curry had felt like he'd died and gone to heaven. It had been his first clue that he didn't think of Heyes as just a friend.

Heyes had a book open across his arm. It was unlike him to fall asleep still reading but he'd been stressed and not sleeping well for a couple of days now. Curry resolved to let him sleep as long as he would. He carefully picked up the book, glancing at its title as he did. From the Earth to the Moon. Yeah, right. Curry shook his head in amusement, but found the train ticket stub Heyes had been using as a book mark and stuck it in the right place before putting the slightly battered book down on the table.

He hung his holster on the bedpost and took off his boots, then sat in the one chair the room had and, putting his feet up on the bed, settled down to watch Heyes sleep.

Asleep, the dark-haired man was as big a conundrum as he was awake. Maybe more, because the genial attitude he often adopted to cover his real nature was absent. Asleep, he was always curled up on himself like a cat that was tucked away, self-contained and closed away. And silent—even if he had a bad dream, he never made a noise. Currywould wake when Heyes came bolt upright in the bed, breathing hard and sweating, but never in time to try and gentle the other man to a better dream. Now, sometimes, if they were snuggled together, or Heyes was under his arm, sometimes Curry did wake first, but never from a sound.

When Heyes drifted to sleep after loving, he would, for a time, be open-looking, peaceful. But at some point, and Curry hadn't found out when, hadn't managed to stop it, his partner would close up again, get all tight and wary. It bothered Curry—no, it worriedhim—but he didn't know what to do about it, except love Heyes as hard and as deep as he could.

Now as he watched, Heyes shifted slightly, sighing. One of his stockinged feet moved slightly and nudged Curry's. Heyes seemed to relax; on Curry, the contact, even of feet, even through two layers of wool, had the opposite effect. He forgot his resolve and, keeping that one foot on the bed, maneuvered himself around until he could lie down next to Heyes. By mashing the pillow down he was able to slide his arm under the dark head, and he wrapped his other around Heyes's waist, pulling himslf close. He rubbed his hand in circles on Heyes's stomach and nuzzled his neck, enjoying the combination of scents—soap, bay rum, Heyes himself.

After a few moments he felt Heyes moving, his head shifting to afford Curry better access to his neck and ear, his hands reaching to catch Curry's. "Thought you went out to tire yourself out, Kid," he said softly, a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Hmmm..." Curry nibbled gently on the earlobe offered to his mouth. "Didn't work," he added after a moment, enjoying the way Heyes's breathing was changing.

"No, really?" Heyes said, his voice husky. "You surprise me."

"Good," Curry said, hearing his own voice just as rough. "I hate to be predictable."

Heyes laughed, a low sound that made Curry lose a lot of his control. He growled softly and pulled Heyes towards him, so his partner was on his back, and straddled him. He grabbed for Heyes's black shirt and

found his partner's hands locked around his wrists.

"Watch the buttons, Kid," Heyes said. "Don't want to lose one... shirt's new." There was a devil's glint in his eyes.

Curry growled at him again but held still. "Get it off, then," he said, "or you'll lose more than a button."

"Patience is a virtue, Kid," Heyes said, his grip relaxing and his thumbs rubbing the inside of Curry's wrists.

Curry closed his eyes, but opened them when Heyes let go. His partner deliberately unbuttoned one cuff, and then the other, keeping his dark eyes on Curry's face. He reached his left hand up to touch Curry's face; Curry turned to kiss his hand and bite very gently on his finger as he unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, one-handedly but dextrously. Heyes took his hand back and pulled his shirt off over his head; Curry breathed out with a low sound of desire and bent to kiss his throat. Heyes tangled his hands in his

partner's curly hair and arched his back as Curry's mouth moved down along his chest, licking and nibbling all the places he'd found in the past year, the places that set Heyes on fire, too.

Heyes pulled Curry a little closer and scrabbled his shirt loose from his waistband, his undershirt, too, and slid his hands up inside along Curry's back, a little cold on Curry's skin. Cold hands, warm heart, Curry thought, a reaction as automatic as the physical one the sight of his partner's body and the feel of his hands evoked. God, he loved this man...

Afterwards, Heyes sorted Curry's undershirt from the tangle of his vest and dark brown workshirt and pulled it over his partner's head while Curry lay in boneless, exhausted contentment. Once they were both decently clad again, Heyes collapsed on Curry's chest, pulling the blanket and sheet up around them. "Worn out now, Kid?" he asked with a little laugh that damn near woke Curry up again.

"Yeah," he said, wrapping his arms around his dark, paranoid, dearly loved partner. Some day Heyes would stop worrying about who might kick in their door and just fall asleep. But for now, Curry was happy

to hold him and drowse off into dreams about that day. He threaded his fingers through Heyes's black hair, feeling the other man relax in his hold, and sighed. He felt so full of love he almost couldn't bear it. "Love you, Heyes," he said softly.

"Love you, Kid," Heyes said against his throat. "Love you..."

Curry tightened his hold and let his partner sleep.

END PART 1