Spirits are high in camp.
Arthur was gonna be fine.
His fever had broken two nights before, he was able to keep down water, and later stew made from a fresh rabbit courtesy of Charles.
People were eager to see him but knew it was best to wait. This was the time for family.
And while it was true the whole camp considered themselves a family, they know some had stronger bonds.
So, they let them be. Let John, Dutch, and Hosea crowd Arthur. He lasted longer than they thought he would before snapping to be left alone for five minutes. He gets they were worried but just please let him breathe.
It's the first time Dutch is out of the tent for more than a minute. His usually crisp appearance ruffled, clothes wrinkled, and hair unkempt. Stubble covering his usually bare cheeks. He sits at the table, staring into a cup of coffee. No one feels the need to bother him.
John brings Arthur something to eat after a couple of hours. He exits a while later, eyes lighter and a smile on his face. Some overhear him tell Hosea that Arthur wants his help to the shore. Says he needs out of his tent and wants to sit by the water. He's gonna go no matter what so Hosea might as well help him.
Hosea seems exasperated but obliges. Knowing it wasn't an idle threat and Arthur really would go down on his own.
Arthur's still not very steady on his feet but he makes it. Sitting with a relieved sigh, leaning back on an old tree trunk.
He squeezes Hosea's hand, looking up at him with tired but happy eyes, "Thanks, Pa."
Hosea squeezes back, "I'm not sure how long you have before Dutch is back on ya."
Arthur chuckles, knowing it won't be long but not too worried. They share another glance before Hosea leaves him to his thoughts.
He tries not to think about the event but his mind does wander to the aftermath. Of Dutch and Hosea finding him.
He used to call them Dad and Pa all the time. As time went on, as he got older and the gang grew, he kinda stopped.
They never really talked deeply about it. Arthur briefly explaining that other members would not be kind or even be too kind because of it. They both knew it didn't mean he didn't still see them as his fathers.
Still, they missed it. Sometimes in private, it would slip out and their hearts would soar. A part of them wishing Arthur would continue.
He didn't know what exactly brought him to say it again. What made it so that came out instead of their names. He just knew he was in pain and scared and they were safe. Neither seemed to mind, at this point the whole camp knew he was practically their son. If anyone poked fun at him he would punch them. Well, the guys he would. He knew the girls would just do it in harmless fun.
He is brought out of his musings at the sound of footsteps approaching. He doesn't need to look back to know who it is. "Was wondering when you'd be down."
Dutch lowers himself to sit next to Arthur, giving him a sheepish look. They sit in silence for a while, but Arthur can tell something isn't right. He looks to his left to glance at Dutch.
The man is uncharacteristically silent, head down and eyes on his lap. His hands playing with the chain on his vest. Arthur reaches out, wary of his still-healing shoulder. He curls his hand around Dutch's, stopping the movement of his fingers. They let go of the chain, instead taking Arthur's hand in both of his.
Dutch's thumb strokes the back of Arthur's hand.
Another beat of silence. "I'm sorry." Arthur has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He's been hearing that constantly since he woke up. But he senses there's more this time. So instead of irritation, he keeps his tone soft. "I know ya are. I already told you it wasn't your fault."
Dutch shakes his head, "No. Not about that. I mean I am still sorry about that but..."
He trails off uncertainly. Arthur waits a moment. When it doesn't seem like he'll continue on his own he gently prompts. "But?"
Dutch exhales a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I haven't been fair to you."
Before Arthur can utter anything in his confusion, Dutch continues. "When you were recovering the girls told me about what would happen in camp. The work you would do, the items you brought in. And it really showed when you weren't able to do it. A part of me knew you did a lot for the camp but I never knew how much you actually did. How little you rested. If-if you had been better rested before this the fever might not have been so bad. Might not have almost-" He chokes off. Like he can't even bring himself to say it. "I-if I lost you-"
Arthur is cutting him off before he can say more. "Don't" Dutch looks up at him, eyes shining slightly. Arthur shakes his head. "I work because others won't and it needs to be done. This ain't on you. If you had known you would've done something about it but I didn't tell you for a reason. You have enough to worry about as it is. Making sure the camp chores are done don't need to be one of them."
Dutch seems to get angry at that, "It does when you nearly work yourself to death!"
Arthur sighs, "Look, we could argue about this but I'd rather not. I'm too tired to argue properly. What's done is done. You're sorry. I forgive you. Now that you know I won't have to do so much. Can we leave it at that?"
He can see the anger melt away from Dutch's gaze, a warm look replacing it. He relents, "Okay. Come here."
He puts his arm up and Arthur falls willingly. Dutch's other hand letting go of Arthur's to fully wrap around him, making sure not to hurt him. Arthur's left hand grabs the previously abandoned chain, his right snaking around Dutch's torso. It's been so long since he was embraced like this. He can feel himself relaxing fully, his weight leaning on his pillar of strength.
He can hear the hesitancy in Dutch's next words. The slight fear, "I can't lose you, Art. I don't know what I would do if I did."
Arthur holds onto him a little tighter, "I'll make sure to tell ya if I need to rest. Make sure I'm not overworked." It's the best he can offer in their line of work and it seems to be enough. Dutch lets out a relieved sigh, "Thank you."
The silence returns for a time, the two men enjoying the rare embrace. Arthur is starting to drift when he is woken by a soft word, "Arthur?"
Arthur hums in response, content where he is. A hand runs up and down his back, a familiar and comforting gesture. "I love you, son."
Arthur burrows further into the embrace. Though he knows Dutch loves him and it's said in a million different ways in the things the man does, it's always nice to hear.
He's quickly falling asleep but manages to mumble a reply, "Love you too, Dad