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“I’m just an old outlaw, not prepared to go quietly.”
“Oh, you’re more than that, Dutch. You’re… you’re… Well… you’re amazing.”
As he cleans his guns, leaning against a tree a fair distance from camp, Micah can’t stop thinking about his conversation with Dutch. It was over an hour ago, but the infuriating embarrassment won’t fade, his hands clammy and shaking around his revolvers. He just feels like such a fucking idiot for saying such a stupid thing to Dutch; why did he think it was a good idea to flirt with Dutch in the middle of camp? Micah wants to kick himself, part of him expecting Dutch to kick him out of the gang for acting so weird around him.
A twig snaps under someone’s foot, and Micah spins around to the face the approaching person, wishing his guns were loaded… and finds himself face to face with Dutch.
“Why’re you hiding out here, Micah?” Dutch asks.
Micah bows his head, not wanting to look Dutch in the eye. After Micah’s pathetic display, Dutch probably glares at him in disgust, and as Micah stares down at the ground, he awaits an order to get the hell out of camp or a fist to the face. “I ain’t hidin’,” he says.
“Is this about earlier?”
“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Boss,” Micah mumbles, holstering a now spotless revolver. He swallows, wishing Dutch would just hurt him already.
“Micah…” Dutch sighs. “Were you tryin’ to flirt with me?”
“Nope. Just tried to pay you a compliment,” he says, never having sounded less convincing. “Sorry if it sounded weird.”
“Oh, are you embarrassed?” Dutch asks.
Micah’s heart races, his face heating up (thankfully, the brim of his hat hides it). He feels like such a fool for blushing under Dutch’s gaze, but he can’t help it. Dragging in a wheezy breath, he says, “Of course I ain’t.”
“Micah?” Dutch’s hand reaches out, gently gripping Micah’s chin.
Dutch tilts his head up, forcing Micah to look at him. Unable to avoid Dutch’s gaze, Micah raises his eyes to see… Dutch smiling at him.
Confused, Micah’s eyes widen. Dutch’s smile broadens, chuckling.
“I only didn’t respond because we were in public,” Dutch says, his thumb tracing the scar on Micah’s chin. “But you don’t need to worry. I ain’t mad at you.”
“Wh-Why not?” Micah says, his chest tightening as he stutters. He doesn’t understand what is happening. Is Dutch messing with him?
“Because I’ve known how you feel ‘bout me for a while now, and I’ve been waiting for you to make your move.” Dutch steps closer (and Micah’s breathing hitches), his smile gentle as he says, “But I had no idea how cute you look when you try to flirt.”
And before Micah can complain about being called cute, Dutch presses a soft kiss to his lips. Micah gasps, too shocked to kiss him back, but he doesn’t shove Dutch away.
Breaking the kiss, Dutch whispers, “Thank you for callin’ me amazing.”