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It was early in the morning now, everyone was still asleep after such a long night. No one had been on watch since they had just barely arrived and everyone was so desperate for sleep that no one really cared. Who would be mad enough to chase them into the mountains, especially during such an awful snowstorm? Not a soul, it would seem, because when Dutch woke before anyone else he discovered that a fresh blanket of snow had covered their tracks had remained undisturbed through the night and early morning. Dutch made his way to the barn, pulling his coat tightly around his frame as a gust of cold morning wind came and left him shaking.
He hated the cold, he really did. He just never was one to like it very much and it was even harder for him to handle it. Hosea used to be able to, but his old age seemed to steal that hardiness from him and so, in the night, Dutch had to travel between beds. Warming up Hosea first, pulling the man close to his chest and rubbing his shivering shoulders and than getting up as soon as Hosea fell asleep to comfort himself at Molly’s side. He made sure to throw extra blankets over Hosea’s frail frame and made sure the fire would burn through the night before he really left to sleep.
When he woke in the morning he discovered he was pleasantly warm, Molly’s frame pressed flush against his and the both of them under two blankets. He stood, still fully dressed besides his boots, and gently made his way to door frame, peeking over to see that Hosea was still snuggled up in his three blankets. He pulled on his boots, fixed the blankets tighter over Molly’s frame, and made his way to the entry room. The fire was almost out, but he made sure not to let it die as he threw in a few more pieces of wood and strokes it until it was healthy and crackling once more. Hosea stayed asleep, even as Dutch went to his side and gently adjusted the blankets, which had slipped off slightly.
Now, here he was, making his way to the barn to check on the horses. He entered more loudly than he would’ve hopped, the door whipped against the wood harshly as he shoved it open. The horses spooked slightly, but they quickly settled once again when Dutch secured the door and made soft reassurances to them. Count and Silver Dollar were huddled together, Count nestling his snout beneath Silver’s throat. All the horses were huddled together, really, but many of them made sure to settle close to Silver Dollar. He was the oldest horse and more often than not he seemed to foster all the younger horses. He had been closer to Boadicea than any of them, but...Dutch couldn’t stand the thought of it.
Arthur had been close to her, he had loved her so deeply that Dutch wasn’t sure he ever could take to another mare like he took to her. He knew that Arthur was still upset about losing her and he and Hosea made sure to keep the topic light when it came to her.
Dutch gently made his way over to the Count, smiling as his horse came forward to be pet. He would offer treats, but he didn’t have any on hand. He simply settled for petting the albino’s mane and whispering soft, sweet words. Silver Dollar snorted and simply allowed Tamia to settle beneath his throat instead.
After ensuring the horses were fine, and making sure that their sparse amount of food was available for them, he decided to head back inside. It wasn’t very warm here and any warmth he had when he first woke up was gone. He made his way out, being sure to latch the barn door shut again, and fully intending to make his way back inside. But, it was without any warning that he found himself losing his footing. He jerked backwards, his feet sliding out from beneath him and he fell down, hard. His ass absorbed the majority of the impact, but the sheer coldness of the ground was quickly absorbed through his pants and shot up his spine, leaving him shivering even harder than he already was. Dutch was...not happy at all.
He just... wasn’t happy.
“Well,” A familiar chuckle, “That’s sure to leave your hide sore.”
Dutch looked up and saw Hosea, who was grinning wide with his arms crossed over his chest. Dutch just...couldn’t take it anymore. Despite the cold, he felt heat creep into his face and he found his chest becoming tight and uncomfortable. He ducked his head and rubbed at his eyes, which were threatening to spill the tears that had gathered there. Hosea, seeming to realize his state of being, made his way over.
Dutch didn’t look up, he just couldn’t bring himself to, but he heard the crunch of snow and heard the older man let out a slight groan as he knelt down. “Dutch, are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you?”
Dutch sucked in a harsh breath, trying to control himself before he really lost himself in tears. “I’m fine.”
His voice, despite all his effort, came out shaky and it as obvious that he was on the verge of crying. Hosea knew this and he quickly moved to help Dutch stand, “Come on, get up. It’s alright. It's okay, you can cry. I know it hurts. It’s alright, let’s get inside so I can check-”
Dutch growled, “I’m fine!”
“You hurt yourself, Dutch. Just because it’s your butt doesn’t mean-”
“I’m not upset...not about that...just...let go of me!” Dutch slapped the worried hands away, his eyes settling into a glare at Hosea.
Hosea’s face softened at his stumbling words, as they often did when Dutch wasn’t able to say how he felt. “Tell me what your upset about than.”
“Nothing. I’m just...stressed.”
About his sore ass. About how cold it was. About their lack of food and resources. About Blackwater and about their failed robbery. About Pinkertons and about...everything. Tears were coming again but now he found he couldn’t contain them. This time several spilled out before he could wipe them away and Hosea was close enough to see them. Hosea sighed and gently pulled him close.
“Dutch, it’s okay. I’m here, your here.” Hosea wrapped his arms around Dutch’s shoulders, breathing hot air against his cheek and throat, “We’re still here.”
Dutch clung to Hosea’s coat, sucking in a short breath through his nose. He wouldn’t call it a sniffle, because Dutch van der Linde doesn’t sniffle. “I’m sorry, Hosea.”
Hosea only nodded, petting the back of his head and giving his cold cheek a soft kiss.
“It’s okay, Dutch.” Hosea breathed, “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.”
Things were supposed to go well. They were supposed to make money and then be on their way. Things weren’t supposed to go so wrong...not so bad and horrible. People died and yet...Dutch was still here, his gang was still here, but how long is that going to last? With Pinkertons, bounty hunters, and all sorts of nasties out to get them? All because of that stupid ferry job. Dutch was just so frustrated with everything and now, falling down onto the hard and cold ice, he just couldn’t hold back anymore.
Everything was falling apart and now, and now , his butt was wet and cold from ice.
He just crumbled.
“You’re frustrated, it’s okay.”
He found himself crying fully into Hosea’s shoulder, unable to contain himself anymore. Hosea, always the kinder man of them, didn’t say anything as Dutch came undone. He simply patted his back and rubbed his shoulders, giving his cheeks and neck soft kisses.
Dutch was glad he didn’t have to explain what was wrong, that he didn’t need to outright say everything that was on his mind. He never did, not with Hosea. Hosea always just knew, he was the only one who knew Dutch so well. He struggled with Molly, but not with Hosea. Hosea was easy to talk with, mainly because words came so easily to them, but when they didn’t, it didn’t matter because they were open books to one another.
“Thank you, Hosea.”
Hosea hummed in return and pulled away slightly, just enough so that he could catch the younger man in a long kiss. “Let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”
Dutch nodded, rubbing his eyes and letting out a short laugh, “Yeah, let’s go.”
As they made their way inside Dutch yelped when Hosea gave his ass a firm smack, “Just making sure you didn’t break it!” He laughed.
Dutch was just glad that Hosea couldn’t hit as hard as he used to, because he was sure he was bruised. “Sure thing, Hosea.”