Women!

On a day like today, it was ninety degrees in the shade.

Even as the sun began to drop lower in the sky, trees -mostly pecan and magnolia -bent under the pressure of the heat and old dogs cowered under shady porches. The air was so sultry that it left a slick sheen on a man's brow without him sweating a drop. There were rivulets of condensation on the two glasses of iced tea sitting next to each other on the white, wicker end table, so slippery that it was difficult to keep ahold of them. The two men in the matching, wicker chairs flanking the table were drowsy with heat exhaustion, and all they'd been doing was sitting around all afternoon watching the six elder McGill gals playing tag in the yard.

Pete had stopped trying to stay awake about five minutes after they'd appropriated these prime seats for watching the sunset, and now he slumped like a sawdust doll in his chair, hat pulled low over his face, eyes shut in resignation to the day.

Delmar, eyes slightly glazed, watched the torpidly droning bumblebees as they bungled about in the wisteria pouring like purple seafoam over the whitewashed trellises lining the McGills' porch. Removing his hat, he wiped the moisture from his brow with the back of a heavy hand. He had half a mind to fall asleep himself, but he wasn't as oblivious to the clatter and bustle drifting through the screen door as Pete was, and found himself concentrating especially hard on not eavesdropping on the fiery rhubarb going on between husband and wife.

If those two ain't makin' moon-eyes over each other, they're spattin' like ally cats, he thought wearily, but it was something you got used to after a while. It was a blessing, at any rate, that Everett didn't hit Penny, because there were some men that would do that and they weren't the sort Delmar would let himself associate with.

He respected Everett because he reasoned his way out of things instead of muscling his way out --not that he was sure Everett could muscle his way out of a tight spot, judging on that display in the Woolworth's, but he wasn't gonna mention that and fracture Everett's obviously-delicate ego. That ability to reason things out was still more than Delmar could say of himself, and he didn't reckon he had much of a chance at muscling his way out of things, either. He reckoned there were a lot of situations, over the four total days of adventuring he'd had in his life, that he couldn't have got out of which Everett had been able to overcome with apparent ease, and that was something worth his admiration.

But damned if it didn't get irritating, with those two yapping at each other all the time.

He sighed drowsily and took another sip of his tea, which had gone warm as it sat and sweated, leaving a ring of moisture on the white wicker. Penny was awful good at making tea; Delmar had to hand that to the woman. There wasn't too much sugar, but it wasn't too bitter, either; she had found a happy medium in it, which seemed a bit incongruous when compared with real-life events.

Delmar remained in silence a while longer, in the deepest thought that he could muster --which unfortunately wasn't all that deep --and then glanced over at his friend.

"Pete?" he said, experimentally.

"Mrmmf," was the grumpy response that he got.

"You 'sleep?" Delmar asked tentatively.

"Not anymore," Pete drawled sluggishly. He lifted his hat a fraction of an inch, peeking out at Delmar from beneath it with a certain amount of distaste. "What is it, Delmar?"

"You ever thought 'bout gettin' married?"

Pete pushed his hat back onto his head and straightened suddenly, looking at Delmar like he was a square egg.

"Huh?"

"To a woman," Delmar clarified, as if it were necessary.

"Once 'r twice. I figure women are a hassle and not much more," Pete said, shrugging churlishly. "Why d'you ask?"

"No reason," said Delmar, slumping a little in his seat. He glanced over his shoulder at the house. "'Cept even when they're hollerin' at each other, like they are right now, Everett 'n Penny seem so happy. I gotta wonder what that's like, just a little."

"Don't dwell on it, pilgrim," Pete said automatically, slouching comfortably again and pushing his hat back down over his eyes. "Ain't nothin' to worry about."

"What ain't?"

"Marriage."

"Well, how would you know?" asked Delmar-the-perpetually-confused.

"My pa told me that Mama used to be a good woman, but she became a bad wife," said Pete at length, slowly, as though he was trying to find the right way to say it. "An' that's what happens to good women, see, they make bad wives. I figure I wouldn' wanna spoil any good woman I found by makin' her my wife, 'cause that'd be an awful waste. "

When Delmar didn't answer, Pete peeked out from beneath the cap at him again.

"That makes sense, though, don't it?" he said.

Delmar, still processing Pete's words, replied, "So, nothin' wrong with women, but you wouldn't wanna marry one, is that it?"

"I guess so," Pete said, shrugging once again. He had a specific, practiced way of shrugging, like a ripple, fluid and effortless and completely inobtrusive while still getting the desired message across.

"Well… supposin' this good woman you found did want to marry you," Delmar said after a moment's thought. "What then?"

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but before he could formulate a proper answer, the screen door whined opened and Everett blustered out of the house looking unhappy. He was holding a pink, squirming baby in his arms. The baby was dressed in pink, too --a pink dress and pink booties and an appropriately cute, little, knit, pink hat.

"Emmy," Everett called from the porch, and the eldest of the girls in the yard stopped and looked up. "Your mama needs you to take Starla for a little while."

"But daddy --"

Emmeline Grace McGill pushed out her lower lip in an adorably stubborn pout, crossing her arms unhappily. Everett shook his head sternly, and it was clear why he deemed himself a paterfamilias. He was every inch a good father -kind, but firm; no-nonsense, but loving. He was only like that when he had to be, though, which was probably the most amusing part of it all. You wouldn't really expect him to be able to muster such responsibility, any other time you saw him.

"No buts, baby," he said, "just keep an eye on 'er for us, all right?"

"Fine," Emmy ceded, walking up the steps to the porch, reaching out to take Starla and adroitly hefting the baby onto her hip.

As Everett turned to go back inside, he paused and glanced at the two men on his porch, as if only just remembering that Pete and Delmar were here.

"You boys keepin' busy?" he asked casually, trying to give the impression that he hadn't forgotten about them in the midst of marital dissension.

"'Course not," Delmar said pleasantly. "Pete here's been asleep all afternoon."

"Lucky son of a bitch," Everett said, swiping the sweat from the back of his neck.

"Gee, I love you, too, Everett," Pete said sarcastically.

"Don't I know it," Everett said, equally as snarky. Then, more business-like, "Can you gentlemen assure that those pixies of mine remain well-supervised?"

"Will do," Pete replied in a dragged-out, sleepy monotone, nodding once.

"All right," Everett said gratefully, and he disappeared back inside the house. The voices from within started up again, more muted than before, this time, and now slightly placated.

"Shucks," Pete said a second later. "I didn't ask 'im when Penny would have supper ready."

"I think it's better not to," Delmar said, with his allotted amount of insight for the day.

There was a lull in the conversation. They drank their tea and watched the girls playing in the dusty, red-gold twilight, running after fireflies and marveling at their guerdon as the insects flickered in their little hands.

"I don't think I'd be very good with kids," Pete said thoughtfully after a moment. "I mean, I reckon folks ain't lyin' when they say children are a blessin' and all, but I'm not the best with kids. Prolly another good reason not to get married."

"You never did answer my question, Pete," Delmar said quietly.

"What question?"

"If a good woman wanted to get married, if you'd marry her or not."

"Hell, I dunno," Pete said with an exasperated kind of sigh. "I s'pose it really depends on the woman. I'm not even sure there's a woman out there who's worth it. Leastwise I haven't met one."

"Everett says women are fiendish instruments o' torture," Delmar felt like adding.

"I don't reckon he's wrong about that, neither," Pete said astutely, squinting into the sun as it slid down behind the grandiose magnolias. "I think I'd rather have a good friend than a good woman, and I've already got a good friend. I don't need other companionship than that."

That statement was followed by a surprised silence from Delmar's side of the conversation, but Pete didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he sat back in his seat again, covering his eyes with his hat for good and settling back into drowsy comfort once more. The crickets in the sleepy grasses were beginning to wheedle away at the silence, spring peepers joining cheerfully in the dusky, evening chorus. The light was fading faster and faster, now, as night rolled a great blanket over the great state of Mississippi.

"You're a good friend, too, Pete," Delmar said softly, after a long time. Pete, or rather the shadow of Pete that was all that was visible now, didn't move to acknowledge the statement, nor did he say a word. Delmar figured he'd fallen back asleep.

But then again, maybe he hadn't, after all. Maybe he had realized, in the same way that Delmar had, that enough had been said already.

FIN

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Note: I actually have this posted on a personal archive, but ever since I wrote it in late-February-early-March, I kinda sorta wanted to post it on ffn, so I finally did. My closet Delmar obsession, bared to all the world. :-) Now, review?

Disclaimer: I don't own 'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' or its characters. They belong to the Coen Brothers, Universal Pictures and other people. I don't mean to make any money from this, I'm just obsessed. Please don't sue me!