This one has been much-requested, so I bumped it in the queue. Next up is a Billy Rocks x OC, a oneshot for my much-neglected Jack Horne, and then a guest appearance by Steve McQueen and Yul Brenner while I go back to the 1960 movie!

Time passes, as it always does. People give birth, people bury the dead, people go to sleep then wake up to work.

But your life hasn't quite been the same, pass though it may.

For one thing, people began to whisper about the Injun's girl. The girl with the red ribbon. The whispers die down as the time goes on, of course, but you never minded them. You always hoped he would return and prove them right.

You want to talk to him. You want to explain why you were afraid, but why fears and legends didn't stop you from treating him like any other customer. You want to really see HIM, not just his hairline or his clothing or his paint.

Bit just as time passes, so life settles down and routine resumes. You still wear the ribbon, if as nothing more than a reminder of the strange day, but you no longer jump each time your doorstep is darkened by a large form. And, as though he was waiting for just that moment, Red Harvest enters the shop. You know as soon as the door is pushed open but is followed by a soft padding in the place of a boot's thud and clank.

You turn, breath caught in your throat.

"Red Harvest."

The man's face cracks a grin-a strange sight to you.

"You remember me."

Your fingers drift to your braid, tied with the red ribbon. "I couldn't forget." Suddenly, you feel sort of silly for putting so much thought and time into a simple gesture. But why would he have bought nothing else that time? Now that Red Harvest is here in front of you, you begin to second-guess the gossip that became second-nature.

Red Harvest holds out a hand.

"Can I?"

You don't know what he's asking. Does he want to buy something? To have the ribbon back? Everything feels ridiculous and disjointed. You simply nod.

Red Harvest touches your braid. He feels the ribbon, before his fingers drift up. Then they're on your jaw, on your chin. You watch one another. You're far from scared this time, and he seems to be only concerned with not offending you. With a surreal feeling, you touch your fingertips to the back of his hand. You're standing so-very close now.

"Can I?" he asks again, lowering his face slightly.

"Yes," you reply.

And then he kisses you. A short kiss. A simple kiss. But one that's flaming red. He pulls back to see your grin, and there's a smile tugging at his lips in turn.

"Thank you," he says. The words would feel out of place, but nothing is quite normal now. And you have the feeling that nothing will be normal for you again.