ATF AU (thanks Mog!!) with a twist. I realised that I needed to place this within my own ATF/Legacy universe where the boys are both ATF agents and the members of the Denver Legacy House. They fight demons and have cool powers and such. It's an open AU if anyone wants to play (as far as I know, no one else has used it and closed it.)

As the sun sank gracefully into the horizon, Josiah Sanchez shifted his weight as subtly as he could manage, careful not to wake the man sleeping in his arms, lying against his heart. Taking in the pine and loam on the scented evening breeze, he emitted a sigh soft with appreciation for the beauty before him as he gazed across the plains.

The Lord knew he had needed this vacation.

Two months of 14 hours days and pushy FBI agents, along with little to no evidence, dead ends, cold trails and vague leads when there were any leads at all... In the end, it had taken the joint efforts of the FBI and ATF to force Murray out of his hole and into the ground where he belonged. Seventeen bullets and still he had managed to kill two more agents before it had all been over.

Sanchez shook his head, refusing to go down that road; refusing to dwell on a bust gone so horribly wrong.

Let it go, old man, he thought privately. He's dead and buried, no sense in bringin' it back. You have other things to think about.

Reflex, his arms tightened around the man he held. Only now, in the safety of this place, was he willing to admit just how close it had been. If it hadn't been for Nathan...

Ezra would have died.

The wind picked up slightly, enough to stir the two-tone gray of his curls and make him glad of the blanket they had brought.

No time to shield, he made that dive knowin' damned well JD wouldn't make it out in time. Saved JD's life and nearly gave me a heart attack in the process Good thing Ezra had been wearing his vest, if not... He wouldn't be here, and neither would I.

Guess he was going down that path after all.

Josiah sighed and rested his chin on the top of Ezra's head; brown hair turned caramel in the liquid gold light. Half the team would have died and the other...well. He had a shrewd notion the other half would have drifted away. Buck would have died without JD, very likely by choice. And Vin...the Texan may not have done the same without Chris, but by now he would have been halfway down some deserted goat track on that obnoxious old dirt bike of his, not likely to return.

Despite the all-too probable truth, Sanchez had to chuckle. Louder than a banshee and more unpredictable than a foul-tempered mule, that bike was a major bone of contention between the pair. Chris thought he ought to buy a new one, especially when Vin would take to ridin' out at the ranch late at night, and Vin would shrug and deny the need.

But then, that boy knows what that bike does to Chris - and he does it anyway.

The 'what if's', the 'what coulda been's' - none of that mattered now. What mattered was that they had all made it out in one piece and were here, able to enjoy a little down time away from the world of bad guys and close calls.

Just be together. Even now, at the cabin, the boys were undoubtedly stokin' up the fire or sittin' down to Chris' homemade chicken an' dumplin's and Nathan had mentioned the need to compliment that with one of his apple pies...

Savoring the image of his family whole and happy, Josiah opened his eyes to the sky, now draped in a bold pallet of colors as the evening grew near. To the deepening lavenders, pinks and oranges that held onto the last golden rays of the day. The light that shone through the scattered clouds that seemed to caress all it touched in blessing, casting a smile of benediction down over the land and her two inhabitants.

Josiah watched as, from brilliant orange to blood red, the sun deepened the colors of their little clearing, lending the shadows substance as the day gradually gave way to dusk. He smiled as the lowering light bathed his love's hair in shade of bright auburn and the smile grew as he could only imagine what the effect had on his own.

Prob'ly look as though my hair's on fire.

Taking a deep breath of night air, Josiah let it go in a happy sigh. Although the night was gently gathering around the pair, other than the reluctant need to ease the cramp in his side, he felt no desire to move, to leave this space.

Another smile joined the first as his eyes slipped from the beauty of Nature to rest upon the beauty of Man still sleeping in innocent slumber wrapped in his loose embrace.

Melodramatic much tonight, Sanchez? The soft snort almost roused his own personal angel; almost but not quite.

Well, why not? He had reason to be sentimental these days.

Ah, but, innocent?

Ezra Standish was anything but innocent.

That wicked sense of humor alone would do to grace the Devil Himself. And the former preacher had no doubts whatsoever that the competent agent would not hesitate to engage old Lucifer in a friendly game of skill with that sharp tongue of his. And cheerfully place a wager on it, too. So much for innocent. Not to mention what that tongue can do to me...

He shivered, having nothing to do with the evening chill.

Sensual, body and soul beautiful beyond words, no stranger to the deceits and deceptions of the world...no Ezra was no innocent. On the other hand, there was a core to the southerner that defied all of that.

Tenderly cradling the plaint body lying against his chest, stretched out between his legs, as the light breeze again tousled the gray of his hair, Josiah placed a light kiss to the top of his head, brown once again, and let his mind wander about the man who had captured his heart.

A brave man by nature, made cautious by habits too engrained to easily or effectively ignore. In the field, Ezra was as cautious as anyone could wish; more often than not, Ezra's bravery wasn't born of conscious decision, rather of instinct and circumstance and he would be the first to tell you so.

He was a man who rarely expected honesty from strangers, though still he valued it in his friends. Before joining the team, Ezra had never taken anything at face value, friendship least of all. Taught from birth by his mother, honed with years of successful undercover work combined with hostile and ultimately traitorous coworkers, he hadn't dared.

And if the Lord should ever deem it fittin' to grace me a few moments with those particular FBI, I will consider it a great honor to show them the error of their ways. To cause that boy more sufferin' than he already carried around with him...still does...

But he was thinkin' about Ezra, not the federal government.

A conman given half the chance, you couldn't find a man more honest than the wily agent. At least when he wasn't out to ensure what he claimed for his 'fair share' of Nathan's homemade baked goods, which was usually almost half. Ezra was secretly, especially fond of the peanut butter fudge brownies with chocolate chips, which he would savor slowly throughout the day.

Speaking of that wicked tongue...

A perfect southern gentleman by day, a sensual hedonist by night. Josiah still bore several hickies not to mention the remains of rope burns on his wrists, fading now; but the memory of he and Ezra, their bodies joining together by the firelight was enough to make Ezra stir in his lap, sighing in his sleep.

Eyes closed in peace, waiting for Ezra to settle back down, Josiah carded his fingers gently through the thick hair, the strands shifting through the digits directing his train of thought further down the path of the physical.

Rich brown hair that curved in waves and curls like the petals of a rose, perfect for tugging in the heat of passion or meditating the senses. Green eyes soft as petals or sharp as thorns...when they needed to be. Eyes that could seduce a man with a caress or cut him to shreds with one look. It had been the eyes that had first caught the former preacher; just reached out and pulled him in.

Hard and soft. Petals and thorns. That just about summed him up, his Ezra.

His own wild, red rose.

Something stirring against his back shifted his consciousness from dreaming to awake so quickly that those who did not know him well would be amazed. Actually, no few of those who did know him would most likely also be amazed; one or two, no doubt, would be downright flabbergasted.

But then, instant wakefulness from deep slumber is not a trait one would chose his enemies to know about. As for his friends...his eyes remaining closed, Ezra refrained from allowing his lips to curve into a smile. My friends should know me better!

Vin did, the tracker sharing the same trait as he, for very much the same reasons. JD, only because, if he had not, Ezra might well have taken the young witch's head off with nothing but his mage-gift one sunny summer morning when the team's hacker decided that Ezra needed a swim bright and early to start his day.

Again, the smirk was kept strictly mental. Barging into his room at 6am was a course of action Mister Dunne had refrained from repeating since.

This time, however, Ezra had gotten no sense of danger. After a moment of sending out little mental feelers, moments in which habit had kept his eyes closed and soft breathing natural, the ATF agent relaxed, never once having disturbed the man in whose arms he rested. A soft breeze barely caressed his cheek and he could hear the sharp chirp and drone of night insects nearby. Off to his left a few feet, their horses whickered in companionship, from the sound of it still contentedly chewing the grass within their reach. And the source of his problem...

Behind him, Josiah was thinking again, and this time it would appear those thoughts were something a bit more amorous than the last couple of months.

Ezra shivered slightly as the images of the last 24 hours replayed themselves in vibrant techno colored splendor behind his closed lids. The shock of multiple muted impacts, closely followed by pain and more pain as not all of Murray's bullets were caught by the vest. More pain as he hit the ground, unable to scramble for cover; unable to do more than lay there and pant as the battle raged on around him. The cold, he could still feel the cold; the concrete of the old hanger, his body shivering before Nathan had arrived, throwing himself down on the ground beside them, his hands glowing a golden tinged with green and then there was warmth and Ezra had reached greedily for that heat.

But there had been no other choice. Thanks to Pratt and the FBI, JD had been left wide open; he would have died...

He could still remember his lover's blue eyes streaming tears and his voice, roughed by those tears, begging and all but barking at him to stay with them.

In the present, Ezra felt himself shiver again as the wind picked up slightly, just enough to rustle the leaves above their heads and he felt a subtle tightening of Josiah's strong arms around him. With grim determination, Ezra took a shaky breath and stifled the panicked reaction before it progressed any further enough to cause he or Josiah any more stress.

No, absolutely no thinking about the utter fiasco that had gotten them into that whole horrid mess to begin with.

*Pardon my language, but fuck the FBI, I am on vacation!*

Nothing but late mornings spent lazily in bed, fresh air, and all the early afternoon sex and cuddling he could handle. Speaking of that, he could tell he had slept a good part of this afternoon away, the temperature having dropped enough to announce the coming of dusk, if not true night. Time to wake up...

"Would that perhaps be for me?"

There was a moment's hesitation as Josiah clearly pulled himself from his thoughts. Then Ezra heard the chuckle, felt the large chest move as the older man peered down into smiling, sleep-blurred green eyes. "None other."

"In that case..." Not willing to resist the proximity, Ezra leaned up and kissed those grinning lips, tongue shyly touching, lips clinging softly before pulling away. "Delicious. Thank you."

"Welcome."

Ezra shifted from one hip to the other but when he made no move to get up, Josiah adjusted his hold until they were both settled and comfortable once more. "Have a nice nap?"

"Very. And, may I say, what a wonderful way to be awakened? Beautiful scenery, comfortable backrest to keep one from becoming chilled...well, except for my backside which seems to have gotten a bit damp." No longer quite as memory and sleep-roughened, the drawl dipped into a purr as the southerner peered coyly over one shoulder. "Care to assist me in addressing that minor imperfection, Mister Sanchez?"

"Ezra," Josiah tilted his head to the side in serious regard. "Hardly call your butt an imperfection, Standish, but might be willin' to see what I can do. Might get a bit more damp by the time I'm done, but I think we can do somethin' about the chill."

The sunset forgotten, the tender kiss quickly deepened, becoming something much more as the pair latched on and made love with warm holds and lingering touches, crying out their joy as the last bit of sunlight sank beyond the earth.

Ezra sighed and shifted as Josiah's arms held him against the light chill. Lying together on the blanket-covered grass, their perspiration had cooled and now the night air stirred softly against his skin, but he did not want to return to the cabin the seven agents had rented. He would be hard pressed to explain the sudden reluctance, only to say that the pressures of the last few weeks seemed far removed from this place, leaving only him and his lover to remain, sheltered in the darkness beneath the oak's giant limbs and the budding night sky.

He could feel Josiah's heart, beating under his the bone of his cheek. Other than the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional chirp of a cricket, there was nothing; silence broken only by the night and what should be in it.

No gunfire, no shouted commands, no malicious miscreants to pursue.

"You know, " Josiah spoke, the hushed tones vibrating under Ezra's cheek. "We could sleep here. No reason to haul all this junk back tonight. Get a fresh start in the mornin'."

Despite that being precisely what he wanted to do, Ezra felt an unwelcome twinge. Duty and guilt made him protest reluctantly, "But what of the others? Surely Chris will worry if we don't make it back tonight."

He could feel the older man shake his head. "Chris was the one who told me to bring the tent, supplies. Figured we wouldn't be back till dawn."

More had been said with those simple words and knowing their leader's mind-gifts, not to mention coupling them with Vin's empathic abilities, Ezra had a pretty fair idea that they would not be expected back tonight. Indeed, they may well run the risk of being shot for trespassers should they return before morning.

Taking in the camping gear - 'junk' - with a surprising feeling of honest relief, he nodded, moving to straddle the strong legs and meet those blue eyes. "Well then, by all means, I vote we stay."

"Yep." His lover's wide trademark smile accompanied the brief decisive nod before the preacher leaned up to kiss him firmly. "Told Chris you wouldn't wilt from one night spent outdoors."

"Mister Sanchez, I can most assuredly tell you, I am no delicate flower!"

The slight affront was met with a chuckle, the philosopher agreeing with the denial mildly. "'Course not."

The southern gentleman looked at the not-quite grinning countenance doubtfully. "Of course not. And just how did you ever manage to stumble upon such a comparison, might one ask?"

"Green eyes soft as petals or sharp as thorns...when they need ta be. " At the snort and continued glare, the older man slid a large hand to wander into his hair, fingering the thick waves. Those same green eyes regarded the fond smile with amusement behind the pretended irritation. "Hair that curves like the petals of a rose, lit by fires of red and gold." Now the wide grin turned teasing. "Silver now."

"You," Ezra told him with a snort, "realize you have absolutely no room to talk." Lulled from his dignity by the honest admiration found behind the warm blue eyes, he traced the day's stubble with his fingers, lightly trailing the strong jaw before just barely brushing his lips. "You should be a poet. Is that what I am, " he inquired curiously, quiet smile gracing his lips. "A rose?"

"Yep." The former preacher placed his lips against the pulse in Ezra's throat, soaking up his heat. His very presence in his soul. "My wild red rose."

Fearing to give away more than he could replace, Ezra, silent and a little thoughtful decided that that simply could never be true. Not with his new family. Not with this man; this man who gave him solid ground to launch from and a reason to soar.

"Brimstone and water."

"Beg pardon?"

Slowly, those green eyes lifted to meet blue and Ezra repeated, "Brimstone and water. They're what you remind me of, Josiah. The strength of hell and fury tempered by the soothing influence of faith and forgiveness. Sometimes I think you are my salvation. I know you are my home."

Recognizing the gift for what it was, Josiah stopped and answered quietly, "Brimstone and roses, then are we? I think I can live with that."

"So can I, my friend." Ezra allowed his eyes to close as his lips sought Josiah's and repeated softly. "So can I."