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Finally satisfied his guns are clean, Micah holsters his revolvers. Tugging a packet of premium cigarettes from his pocket, Micah strikes a match on the sole of his boot and lights up a cigarette. As he smokes, he stands up, glancing around camp. And it’s important to note that Micah isn’t looking for Dutch, instead simply happening to notice their leader isn’t in any of his normal spots around his tent. Instead of Dutch, Micah notices Arthur wandering through camp; remembering how Arthur spent all morning winding Micah up until Micah shoved him, he turns and walks out of camp before Arthur can antagonize him again.
Puffing out smoke, Micah wanders into the woodland surrounding Clemens Point, hoping to be left alone. To be honest, despite enjoying irritating people, Micah isn’t exactly a sociable person, preferring solitude to big groups. And a camp full of bastards who don’t earn their keep certainly qualifies as a big group. Other than Dutch, he can’t stand to be around them.
As he walks, his hypervigilant ears notice a sound in the near distance: laughter. Normally when hearing a noise like that, Micah would spin on his heels to avoid whoever is nearby, but… not this time. Because that was Dutch’s voice.
Infuriating curiosity taking him over, Micah wanders in the direction of the laughter. To hear Dutch laugh is such a rare occurrence, and Micah wonders what—or who—made it happen. And it really is just curiosity that makes him move closer, not any sort of pathetic deep desire to hear Dutch van der Linde laugh and see his face crease into a smile.
Dutch laughs again, loud and booming, and Micah stubs his cigarette out, tiptoeing closer. He ducks behind a tree in time to hear another laugh, this one a hoarse chuckle—and Micah flinches like someone poured icy water down his back. Peeking around the tree, Micah sees Dutch and Hosea Matthews walking side-by-side through the trees. The pair hold hands as they stroll along, laughing over something Micah doesn’t understand until Hosea splutters and coughs.
“Shit…” Hosea says between coughs, and Dutch’s large hand rests against his back, rubbing in circles.
“You all right there, Old Girl?” Dutch asks over the hacking coughs, his voice softer than Micah has ever heard.
Hosea drags in a shaky breath, straightening his back, and manages to stop choking. “I’m okay. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Don’t be,” Dutch says, his hand clasping Hosea’s again, fingers interlocked.
And the pair continue to stroll along like nothing just happened, soon beginning a mundane conversation. Micah follows from a safe distance, close enough to listen in, but far enough they won’t spot him if they suddenly turn around. He realizes this looks a lot like stalking, but… well, he has no way to defend himself. He kind of is stalking them. But only out of curiosity. And absolutely nothing else.
“So, I returned to camp this afternoon to find that, in the few hours I was out, we now have a dog wandering around,” Hosea says, chuckling. “Are you gonna explain how that happened?”
“Oh, so you’ve met Cain,” Dutch says. “Yeah, little Jack found him wanderin’ this morning and…”
Micah tunes their conversation out, grimacing. As much as he wants to listen to Dutch’s voice, Micah doesn’t need reminding about the disgusting mutt that Dutch and Marston’s kid decided to keep. There was no vote taken to see if the gang wanted a mangy dog shitting all over camp and wasting food, but Dutch just looked at the kid and allowed Jack to keep the dog. Micah rarely doubts Dutch, but he doubted him after that. (Deep down, Micah thinks Dutch would consider getting rid of the dog if he knew a member of his gang was terrified of dogs, but that would require Micah to admit to hating dogs because they scare him—something he would never admit, even to himself.)
He keeps following Dutch and Hosea, eyes flicking from their linked hands to the way they glance at each other as they talk. Eventually, their conversation turns away from the dog, instead becoming a boring explanation of the deal Hosea made with the Braithwaite matriarch—a deal that ended with him dragging Arthur to a saloon and making him dress up like a fool.
Micah bites back a laugh as Dutch howls with laughter, sharing Dutch’s sentiment as their leader says, “Oh, I wish I could’ve seen his face!”
Hosea laughs too, stepping closer to Dutch, so close his shoulder bumps Dutch’s arm. For a moment, Micah imagines swapping places with Matthews, wondering how it feels to feel Dutch’s toned muscles and body heat through his shirt, before—
What the fuck is wrong with me?! Micah thinks, his stomach lurching. Shaking his head so hard he almost loses his balance, his face burns.
Is he… jealous of Matthews?
No, that isn’t possible. He is Micah Bell III, a notorious outlaw, a wanted murdered. And a Bell does not blush like a schoolgirl at the thought of physical affection with another man. A Bell shouldn’t even act this way about a woman, for god’s sake! Those sorts of pathetic feelings have no place inside a man like Micah.
But then… when he continues to watch them, talking and laughing, holding hands and leaning against each other, why does a foreign sensation twist in his stomach? Why does he stare daggers at Hosea’s back, hating him even more than normal for being so close to Dutch?
Micah isn’t an idiot; he knows about Dutch and Hosea’s relationship. But they don’t get affectionate in camp, presumably wandering off like this whenever they want time together, so this is Micah’s first chance in over six months to see how Dutch van der Linde acts around his lover.
Maybe… this is why Micah hates Hosea so much. Because he does have it in for Hosea more than other gang members, and now Micah thinks about it, his anger isn’t rational. He doesn’t hate Hosea the most for being old, because Uncle is far older and yet Micah hates Hosea more. He doesn’t hate Hosea the most for being useless, because Micah has seen Hosea in action, and the old man can shoot when he wants to, and his scams always bring in money. In fact, when they first met, Micah kind of admired the old feller when he noticed Hosea wears his guns reversed, because Micah rarely met anyone else who did so (although he soon realized that Hosea cavalry draws his revolvers, rather than an extravagant reverse holster draw like Micah, but at least Hosea’s guns looked cool). Yeah, now he thinks about it, Micah’s animosity towards Hosea only really began when…
Micah still couldn’t believe it. Not only had he met the infamous Dutch van der Linde, but Dutch, grateful that Micah saved his life, invited him to join his gang. And Micah jumped at the chance, having been weirdly fascinated by Dutch ever since he saw Dutch’s bounty poster over a decade ago, hanging onto the scrap of paper as a weird keepsake. At the time Amos had teased him, saying Micah had a crush on Van der Linde, but Micah didn’t get rid of the paper even after breaking his brother’s nose. Because it wasn’t a fucking crush; he just respected strength and power—both of which Dutch was rich in. So when, years later, Micah got the chance to run with someone as impressive as Dutch (especially after his brother pissed off to California and his father died, leaving Micah alone), it seemed like a dream come true.
And, yes, when Micah met the Van der Linde gang, he wasn’t as impressed as he had hoped—the gang was nothing like he was used to, far too big and full of weaklings who contributed nothing—but it didn’t change the fact that he saved Dutch’s life and was finally teaming up with a man he had long admired. But that was when he met Hosea Matthews.
Dutch was leading Micah around the camp, introducing him to gang members whenever they passed them (Micah tensed up with all those eyes on him, tugging his hat further over his eyes and wishing to sit somewhere quiet and clean his guns), when he stopped in front of an older man: Hosea.
“Hosea, meet Micah Bell, the man who saved my life,” Dutch said, clapping Micah on the shoulder (for once, Micah didn’t flinch away, a pathetic part of him enjoying the contact). “Without him, I’d—”
“Uncle Dutch!”
Dutch spun around as a child approached (whose kid was it and why was he here? A fucking gang of outlaws had no place for brats), the young boy rushing over and paying no mind to the fact Dutch was clearly busy.
“Uncle Dutch, can I show you this picture I drew!?” the boy yelled, flapping a sheet of paper as he grinned up at Dutch.
But rather than telling the kid to wait, Dutch’s expression softened. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Sure you can, Jack…”
And Dutch walked off with the child, leaving Micah and Hosea alone. Glad the brim of his hat obscured his eyes, Micah glanced Hosea up and down (at this point noticing his revolvers), unsure what to say.
“So, you’re the one who saved Dutch, huh?” Hosea said, smiling. He looked about ten years Dutch’s senior, his hair grey and his voice a little hoarse.
Micah correctly assumed Hosea was high in the ranks of the gang given his age, so he swallowed down his awkwardness and switched to what he did best: sycophancy. “Yessir, that’s me,” he said, grinning.
“Well, thank you, Mister… Bell, was it?”
“Yep,” Micah said, popping the ‘p’.
“Really, thank you,” Hosea said, his smile soft and paternal. “If you hadn’t stepped in, my stupid husband would be—”
Micah flinched, something twisting in his stomach. “H-Husband?” he stammered before he could stop himself.
Hosea chuckled. “Well, obviously we’re not really married but…” As Micah took a stumbling step backwards, Hosea looked at him, his expression hardening. “Is that… a problem for you, Mister Bell?” he said, his tone icy.
And Micah had no idea what to say, how to react or what to even think. His chest ached in a way he didn’t understand (was it jealousy? But why would he be jealous of Dutch’s ‘husband’? What the fuck was wrong with him?), and Micah panicked under Hosea’s intense stare.
“Of course not, old feller,” Micah sneered, doing what he always did when unsure what to say: being a dickhead. “Glad to have helped you two… lovebirds reunite…”
“That sort of attitude has no place in this gang,” Hosea said, glaring at him, and he walked off, leaving Micah stood in the middle of a new, unnerving camp, already resenting Hosea for reasons he didn’t understand.
Yes, from their very first meeting, Micah and Hosea never got along. And although Hosea said he disliked Micah for being hotheaded, Micah knew Hosea’s feelings stemmed from that moment Micah sneered at him for being Dutch’s lover. And, likewise, as much as Micah insists he hates Hosea for being old and worthless…
Jesus, does he really hate Matthews for being in a relationship with Dutch? No, that would mean Micah is in love with Dutch, but Micah Bell would never do something so wrong as fall for another man. The mere thought would make Micah Bell II roll in his grave. Fuck, what is happening to him?
So deep in his thoughts, Micah doesn’t notice when he loses track of Dutch and Hosea, the pair continuing their sickeningly romantic walk deeper into the woods. He sighs and slumps leans sideways against the nearest tree (the bumpy bark digging into his arm, but he doesn’t care enough to move), that uncomfortable sensation in his stomach making him want to stab himself to stop it. But instead of gutting himself with his knife, Micah takes a half-empty bottle of whiskey from his pocket and has a long swig, savoring the burn in his throat and the heat that pools in his stomach.
And he just stands there and drinks, wanting to forget about Dutch and Hosea and his own pathetic feelings.
---
To escape Abigail’s nagging (he knows she’s right, that he should spend more time with Jack, but he has no idea how to bond with the boy), John rushes out of camp, walking with no goal other than to escape being called a bad father for the tenth time. He wanders aimlessly, scuffing his boots against the dirt like a child, when he spots a figure up ahead. A figure who, even from behind, John could recognize anywhere.
What is Micah doing out here? When he isn’t being a rude prick, Micah tends to avoid the others, but he usually stays in camp whilst being antisocial, lurking on the outskirts as he cleans his guns or sharpens his knife for the millionth time that day. He stands in the wrong spot to be on guard duty—not that Micah ever stands guard despite being a freak of nature who doesn’t seem to sleep—so John’s next thought is he’s probably pissing… Until Micah mindlessly tosses a bottle to the ground by his feet, glass shattering against the exposed tree roots. John frowns, wondering why the hell Micah stands so far from camp, getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon.
Micah has incredible reflexes, and is impossible to sneak up on, as he will always hear and turn long before the person gets close enough to touch him. Even whilst drunk his reaction times are swift, so why doesn’t he tense up and turn around as John approaches from behind? Perhaps he’s daydreaming?
Whatever the cause, Micah doesn’t notice John walk right up behind him, only snapping out of whatever state he’s in when John touches his shoulder.
At that, Micah jumps, spinning around so fast he stumbles, shards of several empty bottles crunching beneath his boots. One hand clasps a bottle of whiskey, the other resting on his holster, ready to draw, and he glares at John, cheeks flushed and eyes bleary with intoxication.
He doesn’t draw upon recognizing his ‘attacker’, simply poking John in the chest. “Wh-What the hell you doin’, Marston?!”
“Hey, you’re the one who was just standin’ there!” John says. “You didn’t hear me comin’, you were so deep in your head. You’re goddamn lucky it was me, Micah, or you could be dead right now.”
“Oh, thanks soooo much for not murderin’ me, Johnny,” Micah drawls, using a nickname he knows gets on John’s nerves.
Part of John wants to find out why Micah was drunk and daydreaming, but the rest of him just wants to get away from the annoying bastard. So he gives Micah an obscene hand gesture and says, “You’re welcome, asshole,” before storming off.
“Bye-bye, Johnny!” Micah calls after him, his drunken giggle laced with venom, and John gives another rude gesture over his shoulder.
Fuck this, he’s going into Rhodes. Maybe getting drunk at the saloon will stop everyone in the gang driving him insane.