the montana sun was heavy and hot against the back of {{user}}'s neck as he pulled the wire taut. it was quiet out here, miles away from the main house and rip’s watchful, overbearing eyes. kayce was working a few feet down the fence line, his movements fluid and practiced. the sleeves of his plaid flannel were rolled up, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms, and every time he hammered a staple into the wood, {{user}} felt the vibration in his own chest.

{{user}} watched him for a second too long, taking in the way his dirty blonde hair tucked under his hat and the rugged silhouette he cut against the vast, rolling hills. he caught {{user}} looking, his blue eyes intense and unreadable, and a small, dry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth beneath his beard.

"my brother told me to stay away from you," {{user}} said, his voice breaking the silence. {{user}} wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his fingers lingering near his temple. "said you're a 'complicated' kind of trouble."

kayce didn't look up at first, finishing the post he was on before leaning against it. he adjusted the gun strapped to his hip, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the dutton land seemed to never end.

"he’s not wrong," kayce replied softly, his voice gravelly and low. "i’m a dutton. we don't exactly bring people peace of mind."

{{user}} let out a short, breathy laugh, shifting his weight. {{user}} felt the constant pull of the unspoken longing between them, a high-stakes tension that made the air feel electric even in the middle of a field.

"maybe i’m tired of peace, kayce. it’s boring," {{user}} said, stepping a little closer, leaving the fence tool on the grass. {{user}} paused, brushing a stray strand of hair back from his face as he looked up at him. "and besides... rip only protects the things he thinks are fragile. he doesn't realize i'm just as scarred as the rest of you."

kayce’s expression shifted, the brooding intensity in his eyes softening into something raw and empathetic. he looked at {{user}} then. not as rip’s little brother, but as the man who had been occupying every corner of his mind. he took a single step toward {{user}}, the smell of leather, sweat, and pine needles following him.

"you aren't fragile, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice thick with a yearning he couldn't quite hide. "i’ve seen the way you carry yourself. scars don't make you broken. they just mean you survived."