Work Text:
She hadn’t realized until now just how much she missed this. Everyone was clustered around the fire, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. All are temporarily blind to their worries in favor of something much more pleasant. They’d been settling in for the evening when Javier started plucking at his strings, a careless but entrancing melody. One by one the weary souls of the Van Der Linde gang migrated to the warmth of the fire and began to sing along with the few words they recognized from his songs. The men and women sway to the music, occasionally tipping back their bottles and downing hot, bitter spirits.
She tilts hers back to get the last few drops, then tosses the empty container into the dark grass at her feet. A sigh escapes her as the heat pools in her belly, warming her up from the inside. The world began to finally slow, with the men across the fire moving like molasses as they sang. She knew she’d enjoyed herself more than intended at that point but she didn’t mind much. In truth, there was a face missing at the fire and the longer he lingered away from camp, the deeper her worries grew. He and Hosea had gone on a hunting trip to look for the elusive giant bear dwelling in the Grizzlies. It was simple enough and he wouldn’t be gone long, he had assured her. But even so, her worries crept up on her, and on a night like tonight, the warm embrace of whiskey was waiting for her.
Suddenly, the lively beginning chords of her favorite song start to play. She perks up at the sound and awkwardly pushes herself off the log, stumbling over the fabric of her skirt and earning a steadying hand from Sadie beside her.
“How much have you had?” Sadie asks, eyebrows raised.
She squints up at the sky to find the answer, like the barkeeper left her tab somewhere in the stars.
“Somewhere between two and…five…”
“Two and five what? Shots?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Somethin’ like that.”
Sadie huffs and shakes her head but doesn’t press further. It wasn’t anger or disappointment that stirred her, rather she knew her usually reserved friend was sure to make a fool of herself.
A few paces away from the fire, Mary Beth and Tilly twirl each other around arm-in-arm as the song begins to pick up. Tilly notices her walking over and extends her hand.
“Glad you could join us!” Mary Beth cheers. Her cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink but she doesn’t appear to be far from sober.
“I couldn’t help myself, this song can’t be enjoyed sitting down!” She laughs loudly.
“I know, it’s like they put somethin’ in it!” Tilly agrees.
Mary Beth takes her hand and spins her around rather clumsily but the wind in her hair and her skirt feels like heaven. She began to feel like she was floating and like her legs were just carrying her wherever they pleased. She couldn’t help but giggle at the funny thought of them running off without her. But all of a sudden, her foot catches on uneven ground and she’s forcefully reminded that her legs are, indeed, attached to the rest of her. She collides with the dirt, landing on the softness of her backside.
The music stops and folk turn to look her way. In a brief moment of sobriety, she looks up at the girls’ surprised faces and she starts to laugh. A real, throw-your-head-back, belly-aching laugh. Tilly and Mary Beth can’t help but join in, Mary Beth getting on her knees and laughing so hard that no noise comes out at all.
“Now you’re cut off!” Sadie yells.
The sound of a man groaning can be heard.
“I’ve always said women don’t know how to handle their liquor,” Micah’s grating voice pipes in. “Not that I mind.”
“Alright, that’s actually disgusting,” someone else responds.
Tilly reaches down to help her up and she gratefully obliges.
“Everythin’ alright?” another person asks, but this time their voice contains the deep, familiar drawl she’d been missing all night. She turns to make out who it is but the world moves too slow and faces are swimming in her vision.
“Arthur and Hosea are back, everyone!” Another person shouts, followed by whooping and whistling.
She can’t help the smile that overtakes her face.
“Arthur?” She slurs, trying to make out the man among the faces surrounding the fire.
Sadie starts to laugh in the husky way that only she does.
“Ever since she started on that whiskey we haven’t been able to get her to shut up about you. All night I got ‘Where’s Arthur at?’ or ‘Wish Arthur were here’ and my personal favorite, ‘I’ll be so pissed if he got mauled by the damn bear.’”
She gulps.
“You’re tellin’ me I said all that out loud?”
The group erupts in laughter and Javier begins to finger his strings once more. A warm hand finds her upper arm in the midst of everything. She whips around a little too fast and nearly loses her balance again. He reaches out to grip both of her arms and steady her.
“Woah there. You’ve got more whiskey than blood in ya,” he chuckles.
Everyone’s attention is back on the music and the girls have resumed their swaying to a more somber song than before.
She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his. A funny feeling rises in her chest. His calloused hands on her bare skin and his sweet blue eyes peering down at her make her heart swell with contentment.
“You’re back…” she smiles broadly.
“Of course I’m back, silly woman,” he laughs. He looks her over, eyes resting on her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
“Let’s get you outta here,” he says, directing her away. She hums in agreement and finds his elbow to interlock with her own.
“You were gone too long, Arthur Morgan,” she scolds as they leave the warmth of the fire and head towards his tent. “I was so cold without ya. Almost considered sleepin’ with Cain.”
He scoffs.
“Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced after only three nights!” He sounds appalled at the idea but the smile on his face deceives him.
“Don’t worry, big guy. I was only considerin’ it.” She pats his chest assuringly. “Could never replace you. Especially not with a dog. Why, a dog couldn’t do half the things you do.”
The two of them step beneath the canopy of his tent. He unfurls the canvas that’s drawn back to the posts and lets it fall to seclude them from the rest of the camp. He ties the opening shut to keep the wind from blowing in and ward off any prying eyes to their private matters.
“And what is it I do?”
“Well…” she starts, kicking off her boots and fidgeting with the buttons of her blouse.
“Shoot guns. That’s a big one.”
He hums, acknowledging her astuteness.
“What else… Oh. Leave the woman he loves to freeze to death while he goes lookin’ for a big bear.” She turns to him with a pronounced frown.
He can’t restrain his laughter anymore, “Alright, alright, darlin’. I see the errors of my ways.”
Arthur moves towards her and replaces her hands with his own, gingerly undoing each button for her. Her hands fall limply to her sides as he works away. He pulls the blouse off her shoulders, then moves to slide her belt from the loops of her skirt, causing it to slip down and pool at her feet. She puts her hands on his chest to steady herself as she carefully steps out, wearing nothing but the sheer linens of her chemise. She rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes, a soft sigh escapes her lips when his hands find their way to her hips. A childlike sense of peace overtakes her.
“I just missed ya is all,” she mumbles.
“I know,” he says, leaving a kiss on the crown of her head. “Now go get in bed, sweet thing.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. The adoring way he spoke to her always left her stomach a fluttering mess. She couldn’t help but giggle as she stumbled over to the cot and plopped down, cozying herself beneath the furs.
She watches him lazily as he pulls his bandolier over his head and places it on the table. His gun belt and holsters follow suit and then he’s working down the buttons of his blue shirt. He shrugs it off, revealing the top half of his cream-colored union suit. Her eyes rake over him drowsily. She loves the way the muscles of his abdomen strain against the material and how he leaves the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong arms. Those arms were truly something else. She doesn’t bother attempting to suppress the sudden vivid recollection of the lewd circumstances she’s witnessed those arms in.
He looks down at her out of the corner of his eyes while he undoes his jeans.
“You have no shame, do ya?”
“Not at all,” she says with a grin.
He shakes his head. “You’re usually so put together. I woulda never taken you for a sloppy drunk.”
“Sweetheart… Don't know if you've noticed but turn me into a delirious fool even when I’m sober,” she slurs, the weight of her eyelids increasing by the second. “It’s not the hooch that’s the common factor.”
“Ah, I've noticed, don't you worry.”
Her eyelids had finally sunken and waves of swirling darkness danced behind the thin skin. She could hear the smile in his tone and it made the corners of her mouth turn up. The cot dips down beside her and she feels his hand pat her hip, signaling her to make some space. She turns over in a less than graceful manner to face the wagon, allowing him room on the outside of the cot in the way they always slept. He groans as he lies down behind her, grateful to finally rest his bones somewhere other than his damp bedroll. His large hands find her stomach and his knees lay flush with the soft skin of her calves. The rough, itchy stubble of his chin nestled into her shoulder was a welcome feeling she hadn’t realized she missed so much. The warmth from his breath fanning over her neck and his chest pressed up against her back did away with any lingering goosebumps on her skin. He brings his hand up to brush away stray hairs at the nape of her neck and tucks them behind her ear. She feels the warm softness of his lips leaving innocent kisses there and down her shoulder like he often did when the night was coming to a close. And whether it was the liquor in her veins or the yearning she felt when he was gone, she didn’t know, but her chest was thumping with every little touch.
“Arthur…” she murmurs. He hums in response, lips still pressed to her skin.
“Take me with you next time.”
He pulls away suddenly, not expecting that.
“But you don’t like huntin’,” he states, with no room for doubt.
She rolls over and opens her eyes. In the darkness of his tent she can barely make out the features of his face but she brings her hand up to the outline of his cheek. Words are lost on her in this moment, maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.
“I don’t like hunting,” she agrees. “But I like you.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I like you too, darlin’. Now go on and go to sleep before you say anything else you’ll smack yourself over in the mornin’.”
She obliges and burrows her head into his chest. He wraps his arm around her, weaving his fingers through her hair. He laughs quietly to himself, replaying the last few seconds in his head once again.
“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles.
She fell asleep as he toyed with the strands of her hair and it didn’t take long for him to follow suit. Sleep always came easy in the arms of his woman. And though it wasn’t the welcome home he’d been expecting, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t tug on his heartstrings to see her smiling up at him the way she did. How could he ever leave her after that?
Bonus:
The harsh and unrelenting pounding behind her eyes is what rouses her the next day. She brings her palm up to her forehead and groans at the pain.
“Mornin’ sunshine!”
She turns her head and squints to see Arthur sitting at his desk, journal in hand. Light shining in through the canvas behind him darkens his figure and makes him hard to make out at first. He marks his page and sets it aside when he sees that she’s awake.
“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally join the realm of the living,” he says, looking down at her with a playful glint in his eye. He’s fully dressed and has most of his gear equipped like he’s ready to get going.
“Here, drink this.” He hands her a cup of what looks like water off the table. She sits up to take it into her hands and then downs it all at once. It wasn’t water, at least not entirely. It had a slight floral aftertaste that wasn’t too unpleasant but not something she’d ever willingly want to drink.
“Good girl,” he says, removing the cup from her hands and placing it back on the table.
“Now get dressed, we’ve got work to do.”
“Work? What work?” She asks, a puzzled look on her face.
She and Arthur never shared the same kind of work, not even when it came to camp chores. Whenever she tried to do something as simple as chop wood, one of the men would wave her off and take care of it for her. So what was it? Were they going to rob a train together? Why that’d be something, especially considering she can count on one hand the number of times she’s fired a gun.
“You don’t remember?” He tilts his head, bringing a hand to his chin to hide the shadow of a smirk.
“Remember what, Arthur?” She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. Then, slowly, fragments of last night begin to creep up on her. Her eyes widen at the sudden realization. “I didn’t mean it. No, I don’t want to go-”
“Maybe that’ll teach ya to take it easy on the hooch next time, darlin’. Now, you alright gettin’ dressed on your own, or do ya need my help again?”
He takes a step back as he says it, anticipating her response. She grabs the empty cup off the table and flings it at him but he dodges it easily and steps through the opening of the tent, chuckling under his breath.
She flops back onto the cot with a huff. She wouldn’t be drinking again for a while.