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Hosea was pissed and rightfully so. All he wanted was a peaceful hunting trip with Dutch, but Dutch couldn’t stop himself from wagging that silver tongue of his. Before they knew it, they were running from a particularly enraged man who had noticed that his pocket watch had disappeared whilst speaking to the younger of the two con men. Why had they run? Neither of them knew. They had their guns in their holsters, they could have shot him right there and then. But they didn’t. Instead they ran as fast as their legs would take them, through a pine forest. And despite the canopy of trees, there was still a generous amount of snow covering the forest floor. It took them a good half an hour to lose the man as they made their horses flee the scene earlier, but they did it, and once they had, they found themselves even deeper in the forest they originally intended to hunt in. There was no conversation between the two men, well that wasn’t entirely the case. In fact, Dutch hadn’t stopped talking, it was simply Hosea’s lack of response that stopped it from being a conversation.
Dutch knew Hosea suffered from joint pain, yet Hosea was a stubborn bastard who wouldn’t speak to a doctor if you sat him down in front of one. Due to this stubbornness, Hosea hobbled along instead of walking in a more organised fashion, much to the younger man's displeasure.
“Why don’t you just hold on to my arm for Christ's sake, then you’d stop putting so much pressure on your legs.” Dutch gestured to his arm awaiting Hosea’s hand.
“I don’t need it.”
“You don’t need it or don't want to accept my help?”
“Just quit it.” Hosea shooed away Dutch’s outstretched arm with a pained groan. Deep down he knew Dutch was trying to help, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ‘helping an old man in need’ as he liked to call it.
It took an hour of walking before they found anything other than snow, rocks and trees. As soon as Dutch spotted a cabin in the distance he nudged Hosea who let out an annoyed “What?” under his breath before following Dutch’s gaze. It wasn’t particularly big and it didn’t seem to be anything special, yet it had a roof and four walls so who were they to turn it down. Silently, they both hoped that it had been abandoned and they could call it their own, even if it was just for the night. As they got closer, Hosea took an icy cold hand of his, and pulled his gun out of its holster, to which Dutch shot him an unamused look.
“Put your gun back in its holster, Hosea. We can handle this like civilised folk can’t we?”
“Now I never thought I’d live to see the day when Dutch Van der Linde tells me to put my gun away.” Hosea retorted with a confused grin.
With a roll of his eyes, Dutch gently pushed the door open, not wanting to alert anyone possibly inside. When no bullets came tearing his way he stepped in signalling for Hosea to follow close behind, to which he did. There was no one, they really did have the place to themselves. Dutch took himself off to the bedroom where he found himself a money clip and a barely touched can of hair pomade. Hosea on the other hand searched the living area where he picked up a few unopened cans of beans and a neat bottle of Kentucky Bourbon which put a rather satisfied smile on his face. After their brisk looting of the place, the men reunited in the kitchen where they placed their belongings, and any other items they had found, onto the table.
“It's still freezing don't you think?” The older man questioned whilst rubbing his hands together, trying to hide the smirk plastered on his face. Dutch knew what Hosea was getting at and let out an amused chuckle along with a nod. He was going to do it of course, he was bitterly cold himself and knew the warmth would help Hosea’s aching bones. “Yes, yes I’ll get the fire going, Old girl.”
As Dutch loaded the fire up with small logs, Hosea disappeared off to the bedroom where he found a pair of pajamas. Perching himself on the edge of the single bed, he pulled off his boots and set them to the side before slipping off his snow covered clothes and getting into the pajamas. The pajamas were a size or so too big for him, but he was out of his damp and chilly clothes so he didn’t mind all that much. He made quick work of folding his clothes and placing them on the chest at the end of the bed before crawling under the many blankets on the bed. Pulling them right up to his chin, he closed his eyes and let out a content huff. He only laid there for a few minutes before his peace was shattered by a long, and rather dramatic, sigh. Without opening his eyes he already knew what kind of expression Dutch would be wearing. That content one that is plastered on his face every single time he gets what he wants, which made Hosea wonder if Dutch would have wanted to go back to camp even if they had managed to hunt something. Either way, Dutch sorted through the cabinet in the bedroom only to find another pair of pajamas, similar to the pair Hosea had found.
“Keep those eyes shut, Mister Matthews, I’m gonna get changed into something comfier.” Hosea could hear the cheeky smile he wore, as per usual.
“Just do it without making a racket will you, I want to enjoy these blankets in peace.”
“You have my word.” Sarcasm lingering in every word he spoke. He too perched on the side of the bed as he removed his shoes, standing them right next to Hosea’s. And that's when he got a strange sense of deja vu from all those years ago when they barely knew each other, when they robbed a homestead and had the grand idea of staying there only to be woken up by the sound of the law outside. Their boots were next to each other in the main room as Dutch slept on the floor and Hosea took to the bed. That must have been at least two decades ago. He hastily got changed out of his winter clothes and into the pajamas. It was all so different to how things usually went back at camp. Usually, Dutch would just sleep in his union suit and Hosea would sleep in his clothes, gunbelt and all. After folding his clothes in a neat pile he placed them next to Hosea’s on the chest and retrieved his bedroll from the kitchen table before laying it down on the floor next to the bed. He felt Hosea’s eyes on him yet he couldn’t quite decipher why so he turned to meet his gaze. The older man's eyes were filled with confusion.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Is it the pajamas?” One of his dark eyebrows arched.
“Are you really going to sleep on your bedroll?” He sat up in the bed, propping himself up against the pillows.
“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, Hosea.”
“Nonsense, we’ve got a bed, why shouldn’t we use it as it’s intended to be used?” Dutch wasn’t entirely sure if Hosea was being serious or just taking the rise out of him yet again, so instead of answering he just looked at him all confused as he shifted his weight awkwardly.
“Unless you really do fancy sleeping on the hard floor?” That's when Dutch caught on, he could see that smug smile on Hosea’s lips, he was being serious.
“Not particularly.”
Both of them shared a chuckle as Hosea shuffled up to allow Dutch enough room to lay himself down, and so Dutch did. He slid himself under the blankets and sat up against the pillows as Hosea had. Although it was a small bed, there was a generous gap between the two that was almost lit up by the indecent light of the moon that seeped through the fabric covered windows. As the night went on and the fire died down, they found they had shifted closer to one another, Dutch’s hand had made its way onto Hosea’s chest, much like Hosea’s hand had made its way to the back of Dutch’s head. It felt strange to Dutch because it felt so normal. The way Hosea’s fingers massaged the back of his scalp and the way his own hands naturally stroked the fabric of his friend's pajama shirt. There was a comfortable silence between them since they had stopped talking a while ago. He turned to face the other man who seemed to be deep in thought.
“It ain’t wrong what we’re doing is it?” His hushed voice laced with uncertainty seemed to be enough to snap Hosea out of his thoughts as he turned to look into Dutch’s eyes. Every part of him aged, but never his eyes, they were the same eyes that he came to love all those years ago.
“‘Course not, ain’t two men allowed to find comfort in being close?” By the serious tone in his voice, Dutch realised his response was swift to leave his lips, as if he had been thinking about it himself.
“Yeah, ‘spose you’re right.”
“I know I am.” Hosea chuckled, making him cough. It must have been instinct, but Dutch stroked his chest again, trying to bring Hosea some relief from his coughing. Once his coughing came to an end, Hosea let his free hand cup the younger man's face, Dutch melted into the touch before softly placing a kiss to his palm, and Hosea watched him with nothing but adoration in his eyes as Dutch shifted so he could place his head on Hosea’s shoulder. With a warm smile on his lips, Hosea pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his forehead before resting his head on Dutch’s. The man, whose company he found more comfort in than his own, was cuddled up in his arms.
“Wish it could be like this more often.” Came the whisper from the dark haired man.
“I could plan some more hunting trips, just me and you.”
“Would you do that for me, ‘sea?” Hosea felt his heart warm up even more than before, he loved it when he called him that. He also loved the fact he could hear the hopefulness in his voice, he had no idea how he came to get so lucky. It dawned on him that no one else got to see the ‘big Dutch Van der Linde’ in such a vulnerable state.
“You know I would, now shut up and get some rest.”
“Keep saying stuff like that and I’ll think you’re sweet on me, Mister Matthews.”
“And so what if I was, Mister Van der Linde.” The tenderness in his voice was undeniable.
Yet another delicate kiss was placed on the top of Dutch’s head before they drifted off to sleep soundly in the comfort of each other's arms, a silent understanding that this wouldn’t be the last time.