Chapter Text
The off-white canvas walls of the tent flickered with amber and gold as it reflected the sluggish flames of the candles. Dutch’s small cot had been cushioned with a plush bear skin and two satin pillows, pushed further into the center of the tent to provide more room. This is where Dutch rested, leaning leisurely back on the thick fur, clad only in his pinstriped pants and sleek riding boots. Hosea eyed him wryly, standing across the tent with his thin arms crossed over his chest.
“So this was your plan all along, hm? When you said you had to come in here to change clothes, you were setting all this up?”
“You’ve cracked the case, Mr. Matthews.” Dutch purred, smoothing a broad hand down over his belly, tucking the tips of his fingers inside the waistline of his pants. “I believe there’s a celebration in order.”
“There is, hm?” Hosea picked up a book from Dutch’s shelf, eyeing it nonchalantly, barely giving the half-naked man a second glance. Dutch clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t act like you don’t know, old girl. You remember it just as well as me; that cold night outside Chicago.”
“If you’re referring to the day we first met, then I am well aware.” Hosea tossed the book back onto the shelf with a shrug, unbuttoning each of his sleeve cuffs and rolling them up his pale forearms. “Tried to rob each other, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes. You slipped my watch right out of my breast pocket.” Dutch ran a hand up his chest, cupping his pectoral as if to show Hosea where his watch had been. He gave it a little squeeze, eyes twinkling mischievously. Hosea rolled his eyes.
“And you stole my father’s ring off of my pointer finger.” Hosea scoffed, running a hand casually through his platinum hair. “I remember it quite well, thank you.”
“And do you remember the date of that fateful night? All those years ago?”
Hosea stared at him blankly, watching with muted mirth as a flicker of disappointment flashed behind the younger man’s eyes. Of course, Hosea knew it was the anniversary of the night they met, he just wanted to see how long he could trail Dutch along behind him. He raised a hand, checking the undersides of his nails with a frown, glancing back up through his eyelashes to watch the betrayal spread across Dutch’s face like a blush.
“No, Dutch, I don’t believe I do…” Hosea murmured, untying his ascot and letting it flutter to the ground. He stepped forward, edging up to the side of the cot and peering innocently down at the younger man. “But if I remember, it was a night a lot like tonight.”
Dutch pushed himself up with a scowl, slouching on the edge of the cot. His face scrunched up into an innocent little pout, and Hosea couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. He broke into a wide grin, chuckling and running a hand back through Dutch’s long, curled hair.
“I know it’s the anniversary, Dutch. Don’t get all pissy with me. I was just teasing.”
“And here I wanted to do something nice for once.” Dutch grumbled, letting his head fall forward and thump onto the jut of Hosea’s hipbone. Hosea cooed, running his long fingers through Dutch’s hair, and scratching lightly at his scalp. Dutch let out a pleasured chuff, pushing his head into the touch.
“Dutch, darling, the boys are just outside. I’m not sure we can do anything without waking them. Maybe we can get a hotel room tomorrow, when Susan gets back from her trip… make a day of it, hm? This is all very sweet, but…”
Dutch huffed, wrapping his arms snugly around Hosea’s hips, gripping a handful of his ass and squeezing indignantly. Hosea grunted, slapping him on his bare shoulder with a startled wheeze. “ Dutch-“
“We can be quiet, ‘Sea.” Dutch murmured into the man’s belly, voice muffled through the layers of his vest and dress shirt. “Just my mouth and hands… we don’t need to go all the way.”
Hosea sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, hissing out a conflicted breath. He lightly stroked Dutch’s shoulder, pressing a knuckle into a knot. Dutch moaned softly, more out of relief than pleasure, and hugged Hosea tighter.
“Perhaps that will be ok… but you have to be quiet, Dutch. The last time we tried something here…” the pair chuckled as they remembered how Arthur had burst into their tent, half-dressed and panting as he brandished his Springfield rifle. The older men had scrambled away from each other in horror, throwing a blanket over themselves to spare any fleeting sliver of dignity they had left. Arthur went beet red in embarrassment, sputtering something about thinking there was a feral dog in the camp before racing out of the tent. Dutch and Hosea ended up laughing too hard to finish their task, falling asleep wrapped in each other and hoping that their adoptive son wasn’t too mentally scarred.
Dutch snorted softly, pushing himself away from the man to look up into his eyes. His hands stayed planted on his ass, giving it a gentle squeeze every few moments. “Oh, don’t worry about me. You’re the one who will need to stay quiet.”
Hosea smiled, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on Dutch’s lips. The kiss barely lasted one short second before the flaps of their tent were shoved to the side. Hosea shot up, whirling around with wide eyes to see John standing stiff and tiny against the inky blackness of the autumn night.
“John… what is it, son?” Hosea spoke slowly, gently disentangling himself from Dutch’s grasp. Dutch sighed, slouching back against the cot.
“I… I threw up.” John’s voice quavered as he spoke, wringing his hands in front of himself. The front of his union suit was stained suspiciously, and his long ratty hair was matted against his face.
“ Damnit…” Dutch murmured, tisking in frustration as Hosea cooed and rushed to the child’s side. “ Where?”
“ On… in-“ the twelve year old was cut off by a muffled shout.
“What the hell is on my pillow?”
“ Arthur’s tent.” John sobbed, covering his eyes as his shoulders shook. Hosea sighed, pulling the boy into a secure embrace.
“It’s alright, John. Dutch can clean it up… let’s get you some tea, ok?”
“ Me?” Dutch scoffed, staring at Hosea in horror. Hosea shot him a glare fierce enough to kill a small animal, looking pointedly down at the crying child in his arms, then back up at the man.
“ Yes. Go help Arthur.”
Dutch rolled his eyes, standing with a huff and throwing a shirt over his shoulders. He shoved his way out of the tent, pacing angrily towards Arthur’s lean-to as he began to fasten his buttons. Hosea patted John on the back, ushering him further into the tent so he could inspect the boy.
“Did you eat something bad, John? Oh… you do feel warm.” Hosea gently brushed John’s hair from his face, resting the back of a pale hand on the child’s forehead.
“My belly hurts.”
“Ok… alright, son, let me get you a bucket really quick. If you need to throw up again, do it outside of the tent, ok? I’ll be right back.”
Hosea rushed from the tent, bumping into Arthur on his way to grab up one of their empty feed buckets near the horse’s hitching station. Arthur looked pale, eyes tired as he peered at the older man.
“Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry about John… think he’s come down with something. Is Du- …are you alright?”
Arthur had begun to sweat, clenching his jaw. He shook his head, opening his mouth as if to reply before whirling around and emptying his stomach against the nearest tree. Hosea jumped back, cursing as he avoided the splash of half-digested stew. Arthur gagged miserably, back arching as he heaved.
“Oh, Arthur-“ Hosea grimaced, stepping forward to rub between the young man’s shoulder blades. Arthur dry heaved for several long moments after he had emptied his belly completely, groaning in pain and clutching at his abdomen. Hosea rubbed a hand up and down his back, murmuring softly to the boy.
“Ok, Arthur. Ok… it’s ok. Get it out.”
“ Mnnmgh-“ Arthur’s words garbled together as he straightened up, wiping his streaming eyes with his sleeve. He moved to wipe at his mouth, and Hosea tisked loudly, yanking Arthur’s arm down just in time.
“Don’t use your sleeve. Here-“ he pulled a kerchief from his pocket, swiping away at Arthur’s mouth and chin. He crumpled it, tossing it into the grass before wrapping a warm arm around Arthur’s shoulders and ushering him away from the tree. He paused, scooping up two tin buckets by their handles before helping the young man back to Dutch’s tent.
“You and John must have caught somethin’… let’s see what we can do for you.” Arthur trudged silently along, head bowed tiredly. He spit into the grass every few moments, trying to rid himself of the sour bile clinging to his tongue.
They crossed paths with Dutch on their way to the tent. The man was carrying a cloth bundle, scowling and holding it away from him like it would attack. He eyed Hosea and Arthur in barely-contained disgust. “What’s wrong with him ?”
“He’s sick, too. I’m afraid they’ve come down with somethin’.” Dutch groaned, throwing his head back.
“God dammit… you boys.”
“ Love you, too.” Arthur rasped sarcastically, clearing his throat and rubbing at his belly. “Think I need’ta lay down.”
“You can use Dutch’s bed for now, son.” Hosea murmured, parting Arthur gently on the back. “Your bed’s a bit… soiled at the moment.”
Dutch threw a withering glance up at the men, opening his mouth to object before they were cut off by the high-pitched gagging of John. Dutch cursed, dropping the bundle of bedding and rushing towards the noise as Hosea shook his head. He helped Arthur to their tent, sitting him down on the bear skin and swiping a hand through the young man’s hair. Arthur closed his eyes, leaning into it with a hum.
“Here’s a bucket in case you need to be sick again.” Hosea said, placing the metal pail next to him on the cot. “I need to get John cleaned up, then I’ll make you some tea.”
“Thanks, ‘Sea.” Arthur murmured, laying back on the cot and miserably closing his eyes. Hosea paced out through the back entrance, barely stopping himself before he stepped in John’s puddle of sick. Dutch was kneeled next to the boy, face scrunched in worry as he swiped away the mess from his chin with his own bandana. John’s hair had been tied back with a small string, and secured at the top of his head with an ivory comb he had stolen from an estate boss’s wife. Hosea smiled softly at the sight, watching as Dutch tenderly cupped the boy’s face, swiping away his tears with the calloused pad of his thumb.
“I’ll get him a new pair of pajamas. Arthur’s in our bed, but I’m sure John’s cot can be dragged into the tent as well. I think it’s best if we keep them together for the night.” Hosea spoke softly, trying to keep John as calm as possible. The boy had been hardened by the streets, yet he fretted and shivered around the pain in his belly. Hosea wondered if he had ever been this sick before.
“I believe we’re in this for the long haul, my friend.” Dutch groused, making sure John’s face was fully wiped clean before scooping him up in his arms. John wrapped his tiny arms around Dutch’s neck, burying his head in the man’s chest as he shivered. Dutch frowned, cupping the back of his head and hugging him close. “Ok kid… let’s get you inside. I have some extra blankets for you. Hosea’s going to get you some fresh clothes… yes, and-“ Dutch’s voice trailed off as he entered the tent. Hosea smiled softly, pacing to John’s tent and quickly rooting through his wardrobe for a fresh union suit. He filled their kettle as he passed the campfire, hanging it over the flames to boil as he helped the boys. Hosea always kept bundles of herbs in his saddle bag, which came in handy in times like these. He had stolen a recipe for a nausea-cure years ago. It was to be taken in the form of a tea. He used it mostly for hangovers, but he was sure it would work for the flu as well.
He reentered their tent to the sight of Arthur hunched miserably over his bucket as he heaved, John was perched on the floor, covering his ears against the nauseating noises. Dutch was gone; no doubt trying to drag John’s cot into the tent. Hosea sighed, tossing the fresh clothing to John before sitting next to Arthur on the cot and patting his shoulder.
“Alright, Arthur. It’s ok.” He murmured, patting his back as he coughed and spluttered. “You finished?”
“ Think so.” He rasped, blinking away stinging tears and clearing his throat. “ Tea?”
“It’s brewing now, son. Let me empty out this bucket before you’re sick again. I’ll bring you some tea when I come back.”
“ Little help-“ Dutch groaned, cursing sharply as he tried to drag John’s cot over the lip of the tent floor. Hosea stood, lifting John off of the floor and moving him out of the way before he turned back to Dutch, lifting the opposite end of the cot and carrying it inside.
“You get dressed, John. We’ll get this bed made.” Dutch sighed loudly as they set down the heavy cot, swiping a bead of sweat away from his brow. John nodded, scrambling to slip off his soiled clothing and to weasel his way into the clean pajamas. Dutch and Hosea worked together to sling a fresh blanket over the cot, easing a down pillow onto one end before tossing a final thick quilt over the taught canvas. John scrambled into the bed, eyes tired and shining with fever. Hosea melted, tucking him in and placing a quick kiss on his forehead.
“Here’s something for you to be sick in.” Hosea murmured, slipping the bucket into his hands. “Don’t you worry about making a mess. Dutch and I will take care of you.”
“I don’t feel good. My stomach .. .”
“I know, John. You’ve got the flu. I’ll fetch you both some tea while I clean out Arthur’s bucket, alright?” Hosea slipped out of the tent, leaving the boys with Dutch as he emptied Arthur’s bucket into the nearby cattails. The crisp evening wind rustled through his hair, and carried the deep baritone of Dutch to his ears. The man was no doubt ribbing the boys about their illnesses; trying to lighten the mood. Hosea smiled softly, moving to grab his herbs from his saddlebag and quickly brewing some medicinal tea. A sharp, sweet aroma wafted off of the steaming concoction, carrying the promise of bitter tang. Hosea wrinkled his nose, pacing to their mess cart to grab a small pot of honey he had stolen from the market. He added the thick amber sweetener to the tea, stirring it thoughtfully until the sour smell softened into a gentle whisper.
He nodded, satisfied, before he slung the bucket over his arm, lifting the two hot cups of tea and pacing carefully into their tent. Dutch was seated in his reading chair, slouched between the two boys as he read softly to them. Arthur looked to be unconscious, eyes bruised and sunken. John was curled up on his side, clutching the bucket to his chest and blinking slowly as Dutch rumbled out each paragraph.
“Ah, here comes the doctor with your medicine, boys.” Dutch smiled, taking one of the mugs from Hosea’s grasp to ease into John’s hands. John sat tiredly up, taking the mug and twisting up his face at the thought of putting anything new into his roiling belly.
Hosea placed Arthur’s bucket on the ground next to his cot, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed and rubbing the boy’s shoulder. Arthur cracked open his feverish eyes, murmuring and shivering slightly as he peered up at the elder man.
“I’ve brought you some tea, Arthur.” Hosea spoke softly, as if sharing a well-kept secret. Arthur grumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He had unbuttoned his shirt halfway, and the fabric fell open over his chest. His skin shone with an oily sheen of sickness and sweat.
“ Mm. Thanks.” Arthur rasped, taking the steaming mug from Hosea’s hands and raising it to his mouth. He took two meager swallows, scrunching up his face and forcing them down into his sore stomach. Hosea smiled.
“Good job, Arthur. That’s good. You should start feeling a bit better soon. Now, John-“ Hosea turned, glancing at the boy hunched petulantly on the cot. His legs dangled over the side, swinging restlessly. “John, let’s take a sip, now.”
“I… don’t think I can.” John peered up at Hosea, then to Dutch pleadingly. Dutch shrugged.
“Listen to Hosea, kid. He knows how to handle this sort of thing.”
“But I… I-“ John was cut off by a loud heave, spurring a sharp curse from Dutch as the man leapt forward to take the tea from the boy’s grasp, shoving the bucket into his hands instead. John sobbed, burying his head in the bucket and rocking forward with the force of his gags. The young boy shook, clutching at the bucket in pain as his stomach clawed and fought to rid itself of its nonexistent contents. Hosea stood, scowling in worry and slight disgust at the boy’s strangled noises. He paced across the tent, sitting next to John and holding the bucket steady for him, using his free hand to squeeze the boy’s shoulder gently. Dutch sighed, setting the mug down on a nearby shelf and sitting himself next to John as well. The boy’s hair had fallen in strings in front of his face, and Dutch brushed it out of the way, holding them away from his mouth diligently.
John heaved for a few more seconds before collapsing into Dutch’s arms. He murmured weakly, snuggling into the man’s grasp and hugging him tight. Dutch hovered his hands uncertainly over John’s shoulders for a moment, taking a breath before wrapping him up in a hug.
“It’s ok, John… It’s alright.”
“This stinks.” Hosea and Dutch shared a tired laugh at the boy’s muffled lament. Dutch nodded, patting him softly between his shoulder blades and squeezing him a bit tighter.
“Yes, it does. You’ll be alright in a few hours. I’m afraid this is something we’ll just have to wait out.”
“ Ugh.” John untangled himself from Dutch’s arms, falling back into the cot with a tired shiver. Dutch smiled sadly, wrapping the thick patchwork blanket around the boy and tucking it securely around him.
“I’ll be right back with the bucket, son. One moment.” Hosea stood with a grunt of effort, placing a hand on his lower back as he exited the tent. Dutch stood as well, following the man outside and into the tall weeds where he dumped the bucket out once more.
“Quite an anniversary.” Dutch chuckled, quirking a lip up in disgust. Hosea sighed softly, smiling to himself and smoothing a hand up Dutch’s chest, resting it over his heart. He dropped the bucket in the grass with a hollow thunk.
“When we met that night… I never imagined we’d be here… with two kids- taking care of them.”
Dutch scoffed, smiling to himself. “I can see why- considering our shared sexes. Two children would be quite difficult to create.”
“Shut up, you oaf, I’m trying to have a moment, here.”
Dutch softened, smiling a small smile and nodding to the older man to continue.
“It’s hard work. Sometimes disgusting work.” Hosea scowled at the bucket on the ground. “Sometimes hazardous work.”
Dutch nodded, hanging onto the man’s every word. He was completely enraptured as Hosea spoke.
“I wouldn’t trade it for the world. This…” he gestured to the bucket, and the puddle of slime on the ground. “This is worth it.”
Dutch beamed at him, nodding and running a hand back through his hair. Hosea frowned, snaking his hand up across Dutch’s chest and over the back of his neck, playing idly with a stray curl.
“I’m sorry tonight didn’t turn out. I wish I could take you up on your previous offer.” Hosea pushed himself up on his toes, opening his mouth slightly and attempting to press a gentle kiss to the younger man’s lips. Dutch held up a hand, pushing Hosea back down with a frown. Hosea peered up at him confusedly, face twisting into a shocked and disappointed expression.
“I think now is a good time to mention I’ve felt quite nauseous all afternoon. And it’s getting worse.”
“ Dutch-“ Hosea smacked him on the chest, shoving a tired huff from the man’s throat. “ Why did you try and seduce me, then?”
“I… thought it might cure me. You’ve helped me through worse before.”
“Your sexual appetite is stronger than any man… or woman I’ve ever encountered. God, Dutch, let me know next time. Maybe I’ll rethink my actions before I kiss you like that.”
“I admit to my mistakes.”
“You big fool… let me make you some tea, alright? And-“ Hosea was cut off by the muffled gags of Arthur. He deflated, sighing roughly and lugging the bucket up off of the ground. “I’m afraid tonight is going to be a long one.”
Oh Dutch nodded, looking pale. “I’m afraid I might need a bucket as well.”