Graculus made me do it.

No one had accused him of anything so there was nothing to defend himself against. In theory.

If those long looks had irritated him, it was just his guilt speaking.

Criminals in the dock got a fairer reception.

It hurt.

There had been no malice, no cruelty in their looks. There hadn't even been disappointment. They had just regarded him with a kind of resigned amusement and he had been powerless to stop it.

The gambler doth protest too much.

But that had been yesterday. Today they all acted like nothing had happened. The long looks had stopped because the judgement was in, accepted and forgotten without a word from the defendant. He had been greeted jovially at breakfast and had played along with their perceptions.

But something inside him still ached.

He had started drinking around noon and didn't feel inclined to stop. The others drifted in and out of the saloon, probably assuming he was hitting the bottle a little hard because there were no new marks for him to rob.

At a little after five, he was boring himself by breaking an imaginary Faro bank for the second time when Buck sat down at the table with a beer and a smile.

"Evenin', Ezra, room for one more?"

"I don't mind if I do, Buck, thank you," Ezra replied, moving to pour himself another glass of whisky then blinking in surprise when his efforts yielded nothing but the smallest dribble. He frowned into the depths of the bottle but there was no more forthcoming. "Damn," he concluded dryly.

"All good things," Buck said, sitting back in his chair. "And if you don't mind me saying, it's probably for the best. You look like you could do with some air."

Paying no heed, Ezra drank down the last drop of whisky then placed his glass back on the table with a clunk.

Frowning, Buck took a drink of his beer -- only to almost gag on it in his haste to stop Ezra getting up from the table.

"Not so fast, stud," he said, taking a hold of Ezra's sleeve. "If you have anymore to drink I'll be the one skinning you."

"Ha, very funny," Ezra returned softly but then suddenly felt a little woozy. "Actually, I think I'll have that air now."

"That sounds about right." Buck grinned and patted Ezra's sleeve.

Ezra could tell by the tone of Buck's voice that he wasn't expected back so he didn't feel guilty in the least when, upon reaching the backdoor of the saloon, he decided there was somewhere else he'd rather be.

Ezra knocked on the rough wood door lightly, half hoping no one would hear, but Nathan answered just a few rapid heartbeats later.

"Ezra?" he said with a frown before stepping forward into the doorway to get a better view of the street. "Is someone hurt?"

"No. Not really." Ezra glanced away from Nathan's critical gaze.

"What's 'not really' mean?"

"Can I come in?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Not particularly. Can I come in?"

"What for?"

"Are you going to let me in or not?" Ezra finally snapped.

"All right, but you better be quick," Nathan said, stepping back to let Ezra pass. "You can't be coming up here in the middle of the day like this."

"Thank you. Your warmth and hospitality know no bounds," Ezra returned flatly as Nathan closed and locked the door behind him.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Nathan waited for Ezra to explain himself.

Ezra took off his hat and met Nathan's steady gaze but couldn't find the words. He shifted his stance uncomfortably before moving his attention from Nathan's impatient look to the window over his shoulder.

"I didn't...."

He lost the words again but his expression must have given away something because Nathan suddenly stepped up close to cup one side of his face and thumb his cheek.

"What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" Nathan asked, his fingers already moving surreptitiously around Ezra's neck and up through his hair, checking for injuries.

Hungry for that knowing touch, Ezra let Nathan carry on with the pointless search. The situation was so ridiculously pathetic he felt like laughing. But then Nathan was cupping his face again, meeting his gaze worriedly.

"Did someone hurt you?"

Ezra couldn't help but smile at that.

Unfortunately, Nathan didn't get the joke.

"Come here and sit down," Nathan said, easing him over to the bed and slipping him out of his jacket.

"Why didn't you just say you were hurt?" Nathan continued, laying the jacket on the mattress then moving to unbutton Ezra's vest.

Ezra laid his hat on top of his jacket and watched as Nathan's large hands with their surprisingly nimble fingers worked down his chest then pushed back each side of his vest before starting on his shirt buttons. Thrills of arousal rushed through him every time Nathan's cool fingers brushed against his bare chest. However, when Nathan moved to unbutton his waistband and pull out his shirt, the pleasure he was feeling at Nathan's concern felt abruptly, sickeningly wrong.

"No, don't," he said, staying Nathan's hands. "I'm fine."

"You always say that even when I can see you hurting," Nathan returned exasperatedly, trying to continue his work.

"I mean it this time." Ezra pushed Nathan's hands away and started buttoning his shirt back up.

"Then let me see for myself." Nathan slipped his hands around Ezra's ribs, pulling open his shirt.

If the movement made him lose a button or two, Ezra was in no mood to complain. Acting on an immediate impulse, he pulled Nathan into a hard, demanding kiss.

It took a moment for Nathan to react but when he did, his response was warm and gentling.

"Is this what this was all about? You crying wolf on me?" Nathan asked softly while leaning away. "Couldn't you wait until tonight?"

Ezra shook his head slightly. "Ask me why."

"Why? Why what?" Nathan frowned.

"Ask me why I did it," Ezra clarified evenly. "No one asked me why I talked that boy into gambling those land deeds. Ask me."

"Ezra, I don't--"

"Just ask me, Nathan."

"All right. Why'd you do it?"

"So he wouldn't leave town before you all got back," Ezra was finally able to say. "The kid was indeed a prodigal son, no prodigy in any sense. I could have won them at anytime if I'd wanted to but that wasn't the object of the exercise."

"That's it?" Nathan stared at him. "That's what you were doing?"

"What did you think it was, a happy coincidence that both he and the deeds were still here upon your return?" Ezra said, turning his attention back to his shirt buttons -- only to have Nathan stay his hands.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't you ask?"

Nathan looked down to watch his fingers caress Ezra's lightly. "I wish I knew what to say."

Ezra shrugged. "It's all right. I guess we both know why."

"That still don't make it right," Nathan retorted angrily. "I'll make sure everyone else knows what happened."

When Ezra didn't respond, Nathan leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips then ease him back to lie on the bed.

Ezra arranged his body willingly under the firm touches but even as Nathan straddled his legs to kiss down his throat and chest towards his fluttering stomach, he couldn't help but grin.

"Now, now, Mr Jackson, isn't it a little early in the day for such behaviour?"

Nathan just smiled before licking under Ezra's waistband, making him arch up into the wet heat.

"Well, when you put it that way," Ezra replied hoarsely.