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Arthur knew if he didn’t quit the whiskey now, he would wake up with a head full of rocks and a belly full of eels. So after saluting to Strauss’ good health for the last time, he finally got up and walked away from the campfire; mumbling goodnight to the merrymakers as he stumbled off. Even though he didn’t particularly like Strauss – something about that man always put Arthur in mind of newts – he couldn’t say no to a drink. Hell, they all needed it.
Strauss was... forty... fifty....
Arthur couldn’t recall. Old, and that’s all he knew.
He staggered through the rows of tents, swaying from side to side like a man in a boat on a choppy sea. Soon enough Arthur felt nauseous, and had to stop for a moment. Then, he heard the noises, coming from the trees nearby.
Arthur’s instincts, honed by years of living on the edge of the law, were triggered. Slowly, he wove his way into the oaks and aspens. Only a minute of walking later, he came across two shadows entangled among the trunks. It was dark, and Arthur was drunk, so he could not see who is was.
That is, until they spoke.
“I-I ain’t sure about this-” Whispered a jittery, cracking voice. “What if someone hears?”
“They won’t.” Answered the bigger shadow, in a deeper, but just as slurred tone, “But you gotta quit blabbing.”
Arthur braced himself on the nearest tree, caught between running away as fast as he could through the woods, or staying to listen. As it turns out, he was too tipsy to think of fleeing; so he was forced to hear what came next.
Judging from the sounds, clothing was being removed in a hurry. There was panting, and the soft wet sounds of kissing.
“Oh... that feels nice....” Kieran whined, in a high keening voice.
“Want more?” Bill grunted.
“Uh huh...” answered Kieran, who had his back to Arthur, pressed up against a conveniently placed boulder. Arthur was thankful for it, he truly didn’t wish to see anymore than he could just at this moment. His imagination was filling in the blanks, and that was bad enough.
“So...so purdy.” Bill drawled lovingly.
“Stop it!” Kieran snapped. “Don’t make fun-”
Bill was on a roll, endearments spilled out his mouth like a leaky faucet. “I mean it... you’re the purdiest feller I ever seen-“
Arthur snorted, only just managing to cover his mouth to smother the noise. If Bill found him lurking, they would never find his body.
“Aw Bill...” Kieran’s voice sounded a bit wet, wobbly even, and then he began to sniffle. “That’s s-so nice.”
“What are you- no!” Startled, Bill made desperate attempts to quieten the other man. “Don’t cry!”
“I’m s-sorry...” Stuttered Kieran, Arthur could just picture him; red eyed, tears trickling down his face, snot leaking down his face. To put it lightly, an absolute mess. “I’m so drunk. Oh lord.”
“I’m drunk too, it’s okay.” Said Bill, sweeter than Arthur had ever heard him.
More tears, and then hiccups. Then the sound became softer, and Bill’s shushing continued, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to suppose that the big man had brought Kieran into a hug. For a little bit, they said nothing else, Arthur began to slowly but surely sneak away.
But not before he heard more.
“I wanna go back to the tent...” Kieran blubbered.
“Okay... okay we’ll do that,” Twigs snapped underfoot as Bill moved about clumsily. “C’mon.”
“M’coming Billy...” slurred Kieran, following after.
Arthur couldn’t contain himself any longer, he wheezed out a laugh, then scrambled away from his hiding spot when he heard Bill’s angry voice. “Who goes there?!
Somehow, Arthur made it to his tent, promptly flopped on his cot and began to giggle to himself. Once the laughter subsided, there came a sudden fatigue that dragged him deep into the depths of a drunken sleep.
As Arthur snored, two figures appeared at the edge of camp, and stumbled over to Bill Williamson’s tent; their fingers intertwined.