Chapter Text
Everything has been pissing you off lately. Someone always ends up in the way of your chores; trying to chop wood? Sean is nagging your ear off. Carrying sacks for Pearson? Every single fucking person is standing in your way. Trying to wash clothes? All of the damn men decide to pile their shit on you instead of the others also washing at the same time.
No one really noticed your frustration, either. It’s not like you expected anyone to but it would be nice if everyone would learn some damn self spacial awareness, maybe step to the side when a huffing and puffing person is marching through camp while carrying sacks. It doesn’t help that you’ve been mostly annoyed with Arthur. Every time you need something, he’s gone, doing something that Dutch set him off to do. Like a damn dog. Currently, the camp is celebrating someone’s big heist. As much as it would bring you joy to join the celebration, the joint singing and the guitar strums are quite frankly, just pissing you off. The hot anger is rising in your stomach to your throat from every giggle, every yell. You can’t take it right now.
You find yourself wandering a bit outside of camp with a whiskey in hand you took on your way out. “A drink right now sounds fabulous.” You mutter as you uncap the delicious drink. As soon as you were about to take a sip, of course, just someone had to bother you.
Arthur calls your name from a small distance away which sets fire inside of your soul. You growl and turn to the man who’s approaching you, his eyebrows furrowed. Not like you can see much in the dark which subsequently makes you rage. You open your mouth, interrupting whatever he was saying; not like you were listening too well.. “Nice to see you too, Arthur, but I really need some time alone.” You bark, finally taking a sip of your whiskey. Arthur blinks at you before he opens his mouth again. “Look, I get it, you need your alone time, and I’ll be outta your hair in just a moment,” He mutters. “I have to be on my way anyw-“
“Can’t you get to the fucking point, Morgan? I’m losing my goddamn mind with every word that comes out of your mouth right now!” You snap at him, your knuckles white as you clutch your bottle quite tightly. Arthur growls under his breath as he approaches you, now anger radiating off of him. His boots crunch the grass and weeds under him, his finger pointing at your chest, accusatory. “Hey now, you’ve had a bad day, but don’t fuckin’ take it out on me!”
You laugh before you take a sip, attempting to settle your nerves. You swallow and wipe your mouth, glaring at him. “Get the fuck out of here, Arthur. I’m in seriously no mood to be dealin’ with you right now. You said you had somethin’ to do, right? Why don’t you fucking go run along do your job Dutch gave to you?” You seethe, pushing the finger that was pointing at you away. “Yeah, go fucking do your job like the goddamn mutt you are, Morgan. Go kill for him, go torture for Dutch. Live up to your reputation, why don’t you?? Oh, it isn’t even a fucking reputation by this point, it’s the truth. ”
There’s nothing but the distant sound of the gang celebrating after your piercing sentence. Arthur’s jaw is dropped, looking back at you with such betrayal. Your heart drops to your stomach as you process everything you just said. Cold panic floods your veins as you watch him stutter in pure shock and anger. “Fuck, Arthur, I-“ “ Don’t .”
You immediately shut up but your stomach twists as he looks furious and, and, sad. He looks nearly devastated. “Nevermind.” He mutters, turning around and walking back to camp without a word. “Arthur!” You call after him, your throat tightening. You jog up the path to catch up but you’re met the sight of Arthur on his horse which makes your heart skip. “Arthur, please! I’m sorry!” You attempt to yell, but the wind blows against you from him galloping out of camp.
“Fuck.”
You messed up big time.