A/N: Heads up! There's smut at the end of the chapter. So, stop at the fifth linebreak of the chapter if you're not interested.
Also, Happy Pride Month, y'all! 🌈
Sam cleared his throat. He was a little shocked to hear that this Bronte feller knew about that, but he also knew what happened to the Braithwaites. Plus, Brandon, a man who deals with information, was associated with this man.
There was no use in denying it. Despite the change from the tense mood earlier, it could easily change back into that.
"Depends on who's asking, I guess," Sam finally answered.
Bronte laughed. "Of course you are. Little boy from the sticks, out here, killing those drunken idiots who have infiltrated my side of the country."
"It's not without reason, I assure you." Sam tried to maintain eye contact.
"No, no. You misunderstand me. I have no care for cowboys shooting each other out in the open, but I will say you have done a great service in ridding those pests from Lemoyne." Bronte chuckled and leaned back in his luxury couch. "However, it is not your skill in killing that I am seeking out. I want your skill as a healer."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Me?"
"You were a doctor before your cowboy life, were you not?"
Sam nodded. "Well, something like that. Do you not have a doctor of your own?"
"Now hang on a minute!" Dutch said, putting his empty shot glass on the coffee table. "You can't be thinking of taking another one of my boys, are you?"
"I am just requesting his services, Mr. Van der Linde," Bronte said, with a smile. It didn't seem warm at all. Dutch was still frowning, clearly unamused. "You will be compensated handsomely for your work, Mr. Hawkeson. Our town doctor is a bit of… How you say? A loudmouth. Of course, people are afraid of me, but I do have something of an image to maintain. What is a city if no one is alive for it because one doctor wouldn't keep his mouth shut?"
"Well, we do need money," Sam said, sparing a glance at Dutch. The gang leader knew that much was true, and was glad Sam had remembered as much.
"Then we'll have a mutual understanding, yes?" said Mr. Bronte. "You can heal instead of killing and be paid for it. You will have the protection of my men and some… extra privileges during your stay in my city." He pressed a hand to his chest. "You have my word, Mr. Hawkeson. You will not come to any harm."
Sam gulped. He looked over to Dutch once more, but before he could get a gauge on his emotion, the gang leader just chuckled and spoke up.
"Don't worry, he'll do it," said Dutch.
Sam's jaw dropped, but he shut it before Bronte noticed. He just nodded along.
"Fine," he said. "I mean, it sounds like good money."
"Excellent!" Bronte exclaimed. Servants came out and refilled their drinks. They put down their empty drinks and picked up some new shot glasses. "Salute!" the man said. "Let us celebrate. There is a party coming up at the mayor's house. You and your boys should be there."
"Salute!" Dutch said, clinking glasses with Bronte. "Is that so? Then who are we to turn down such a kind offer?" Sam just followed along and did the same.
"Salute." What the hell did he just sign up for?
ohn didn't believe a word of what Angelo Bronte said. How was he to know that Bronte would hold up his end of the deal? Arthur didn't know either, but he did know that John's emotions were high and they couldn't risk adding Dutch and Sam to the pool of casualties.
No more losses. Please?
"That poor kid…" John lamented as he and Arthur rode through the streets of late night Saint Denis. The lights were on, illuminating the streets of the city. "I ain't been a good father to him. I hope… he's okay."
"He'll be fine," said Arthur. They turned and made a left down into the next street. "I figure… the Braithwaites were going to hold Jack ransom for all the money we cost 'em. They must have sent him here so we couldn't get to him. But… Bronte knows by now there's no Braithwaites left to pay him. Jack ain't much use to him anymore. Let's just get this done. Dutch can handle the rest."
John sighed. "I just hope you're right."
Once again, Arthur and John found the cemetery. It was the middle of the night, when most grave robbers would come out… probably. Luckily, there was more than one gate, so they didn't have to walk through the gallows. They dismounted their horses and entered the Saint Denis Cemetery.
The graves at the site were bigger and far more fancy than other graveyards in other towns. They protruded out of the ground, probably all made of stone. Some were long enough to cover up any chance of getting dug up. Others were tall shrines that covered and protected the graves from the elements. They were almost like smaller, lesser buildings. Candles had been left by visitors and lanterns had been built at corners to give off a gentle light.
The two outlaws decided to split up to cover more ground. They kept their voices down to not scare away their potential suspects.
John heard some barking. Perhaps the graverobbers had a dog to sniff out loot. He ran up ahead, hand on his holster. When he turned a corner to his right, however, he saw it was just a dog. It was barking, but John didn't see anyone near him. It was a little foggy, but other than that, John didn't see or hear anything else. It was already enough that he and Arthur had to skulk around this creepy place, but now there was fog. At least the dog calmed down and walked up to John upon seeing him.
The young outlaw sighed. No graverobbers here.
"Hey, boy," he said. He gave the dog a gentle pat on the head before continuing onward.
Meanwhile, Arthur had noticed the fog settling in the cemetery, as well. It made him uneasy. He pondered on trying to find and meet up with John, but thought that he would just get mad, thinking that Arthur was treating him like he was still a little kid, even if there was safety in numbers.
Then there was the sound of something shattering. Arthur kicked into high gear and quickly ran towards the source. He slowed down once he was close, his boots crushing dirt and rocks and clacking on the solid stone flooring.
He rounded a corner to his left. A man was leaning against a grave and stumbled back upon seeing Arthur. He smelled of alcohol and was holding a bottle in his hand. Another bottle was on the ground in pieces with liquid on the ground.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I…" the drunk stuttered. "I had a bit to drink. My friend… died…" He shrugged. "They can hear us, you know… they're still with us…"
Arthur nodded. He rubbed the back of his head, a bit unsure of what to do.
"You should get yourself home," he said.
The drunk nodded. "Yeah… thanks." He sloped off going towards the northern entrance. Arthur felt kind of sorry for the poor guy.
"Arthur!"
Arthur knew that voice anywhere. It was John. He was by a corner, beckoning him to come over, with his voice kept down to barely a whisper.
"This way!" Once Arthur was close, John immediately went back the way he came. Arthur followed him, and it looked like he was right. There were tons of sounds coming from a small storage shed. At least, that's what it sounded like. The boys stood on each side of the double doors, got out their guns and pushed the doors open before jumping out.
"You boys found my pappy's watch yet?" John shouted.
But when the doors were opened, they found nobody inside.
They only had a second to see it and then look at one another before gunshots rang out.
"Dammit!" John shouted as he and Arthur took cover. There were literally slabs of stone everywhere for cover. There were civilians around who had come to pay their respects, but they cleared out as soon as the first shot was fired.
"How many you see?" Arthur asked, keeping his head low.
John's eyes darted around the scene. There were still people trying to book it out of the cemetery. It didn't seem like they were aiming at anyone innocent, but for a moment he could see where the bullets were coming from, because of the sparks they caused when the trigger was pulled.
"Three? Four?" said John. "Hard to tell." He had enough. He waited for an opening and shot in the general area they came from. It didn't look like the enemy knew where they were shooting from, either. Eventually, John did hear a thud and smiled.
"Let's bail! This ain't worth it!" a grave robber said.
"You should've paid Mr. Bronte," Arthur called.
The gunshots stopped, but the boys took the opportunity to go after them. They couldn't have left. Not yet. This time, Arthur and John stayed together to hunt down the robbers.
The fog was thick, though, and the lanterns were too dim to really help much. Arthur pulled John aside, making them hide behind a stone corner. A bullet narrowly missed them. The older man shot back once he swung around the corner and there was another thud.
Arthur ran towards the fallen target. John was about to follow, too, when he saw something move out the corner of his eye.
He turned to the left and saw the silhouette of a man. He didn't see any distinguishing features, because of the fog, but he saw a top hat on their head. John immediately pointed a gun at him, but the figure simply walked away.
"Hey! Stop!" John shouted. When the figure didn't, he fired two shots. He swore his aim was good. He didn't go for the head or anything, just the body, but still, nothing happened.
Thud!
John heard a shout and turned his head towards the source.
"Damn it!" It sounded like Arthur.
John's body jumped into action, hearing the sounds of struggling. He looked back at where the shadows were, but it was just gone.
John just rushed towards the source, where Arthur pushed away a man who had jumped on him from behind.
"Arthur!" John shouted. His brother stepped back just as he opened fire. The grave robber flopped backwards onto the ground. John ran towards him and searched the body. "You alright?"
Arthur nodded and rubbed his forehead. "Think so. Tried to jump me."
"Is there anyone else?"
Arthur looked around. "I don't think so."
"You sure?" John checked the dead man's coat pocket and found a whole bag of what looked like gold and small trinkets made of gold.
"There were three," said Arthur. "I killed one and you got two of 'em."
John stood up with the bag. "It's just… I thought there was a-"
The sound of whistles were heard in the distance.
"I'm guessing that's the law," said Arthur. "Let's go!" He grabbed John by the arm and they ran towards the exit.
John glanced towards the direction he came from. It was still empty. There was nothing but fog.
"What were you thinking?!" Sam hissed at Dutch. They were sitting outside of Bronte's manor on the porch. Jack was fine, other than wearing a new fancy outfit with lacy ends on them, and was playing in the grass.
"He offered you a job, Sam," said Dutch. He lowered his voice, so the guards outside wouldn't hear. "That pompous ass offered you a way for us to score big."
"If he doesn't just shoot me when I set foot here alone."
Dutch patted his shoulder and smiled. "He won't do that. You helped wipe out his competition in Lemoyne."
Sam shrugged. He owed Brandon, was going to serve some blowhard and had to find Milton. "Looks like I'll be busy…"
The gang leader chuckled. "You'll be fine."
The two looked to the gate. The guards had opened it and allowed Arthur and John to come in.
"Well…" Dutch said, standing up from his spot, "you took your time."
Sam just sighed in relief. Arthur and John were back and they both looked unharmed. He stood up and brushed off any dirt that may have stuck to his behind.
"Jack!" John called.
Jack put down the twigs and leaves he was playing with and scrambled to his feet, so he could run towards his father.
"Pa!" the little boy cried, happily. Arthur gave the kid a firm pat on the back before Jack was caught and hoisted up into his father's arms.
John sighed in relief. "Am I glad to see you."
"Where's your host?" Arthur asked Dutch.
"Like I said, you took your time," Dutch replied. "Let's get going.
Dutch led the way out. Arthur tossed the bag of goodies from the grave robbers to one of the guards, before dragging a relieved, but spaced out Sam off the property.
"Hey, friend…" Dutch said to the gatekeeper. "Thank Mr. Bronte… for everything."
"You okay?" Arthur asked Sam as they approached the horses.
Sam shrugged. Then he covered his mouth to stifle a burp. "Fine. Had a drink or two. Or three."
Arthur rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Well, you certainly smell like it. Come on." He pulled Sam towards Soleil instead of letting him go to Aurora. "Best you ride with me."
Sam didn't struggle. There was no way in hell he would say no to riding with Arthur Morgan. He let Arthur get in the saddle first, before grabbing Sam's hand and hoisting him on, so he was sitting behind him. The young man held onto Arthur, putting his hands on his waist. John pulled his son onto the saddle in front of him. Once Dutch was on the Count, they began their journey home. Aurora followed closely behind them.
"Alright, let's get this boy back to his mother," the gang leader said. "We have a new camp set up, Jack. You're gonna love it."
"You sure you're okay, son?" John asked, looking down at little Jack.
"I'm fine," the boy said, happily. "Papa Bronte said you'd come for me."
"I'm…" John wasn't sure if he heard that right. His eyes darted to the right, briefly before looking at the boy again, while trying to maintain focus on the road. "I'm sorry."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "What for?"
"For… that… for taking so long…"
Jack just looked forward, a smile on his face. "I had a fun time. I had my own room with a big bed and a toy box. And lots of books."
"Did they… do anything to you?" John asked, hesitantly.
"Have you ever had spaghetti?"
That question alone turned heads. None of the adults around the boy had ever even heard of that word.
"Spag… what?" said Sam.
"Spaghetti!" Jack exclaimed, excitedly.
"What… What's that?" said John. At least they were on the bridge that led out of town so no one would see a group of grown men being stupid about not knowing about spaghetti.
"It's food…" Jack answered, "it looks like worms, but it's delicious."
"Is that right?"
"Papa Bronte teached me some Italian words."
"Don't call him that, please…"
"You know 'cavallo'? That means horse, and 'pantafola' that's a slipper."
"A slipper?" John was sounding more and more dejected.
"They gave me two pairs, one for the day and one for night."
"Well, er, I'm just glad you're alright."
"Oh, yes. I had the best time, but I can't wait to see momma. Did she miss me?" Jack looked up at John, curiously.
"She sure did," John answered, warmly. "Like you wouldn't know."
"Well, at least he knows how to stock a fine bar," said Dutch.
Sam laughed. "Yeah…"
Arthur sighed, irritably. "So you two go off drinking, while we double the population in the graveyard?"
"You know," said Dutch. "I thought I heard gunshots, but the gramophone was playing."
Arthur scoffed. "Unbelievable."
"I wished I went with you," said Sam. "Mr. Bronte wouldn't shut up." He groaned, hiding his face, on Arthur's shoulder.
"Aw, relax," said Dutch. "We've got the boy back. Now, let's go and relax for a bit."
Relax. Something the gang hasn't been able to do since what happened in Rhodes.
"Hey, they're back!" Bill exclaimed. "I think I see Jack!"
"Abigail!" Dutch called. He and the others entered the camp on their horses. "Abigail! We got you your son, everything…"
"We got him!" John yelled.
"Momma!" Jack called.
"He's fine!"
Abigail stepped out of the house. People were looking onward as she ran out towards them. Lily ran out, as well, to get to her cousin.
"I'm fine, Momma…" Jack said, as John lowered him from the saddle. "They fed me good. Italian food. You ever eat that?"
Abigail smiled as she got near her child. She struggled to hold back tears as she dropped to her knees and pulled the boy into her arms.
"Come here, you silly boy!" she said, smiling, her voice quivering, slightly. "You got him. You got my son back." She stood up, holding her boy close. "Dutch, Arthur, Sam, thank-you… thank-you…" She glanced at John for a moment before walking off with Jack. She was biting back tears as she led the boy towards the camp. "I got my son back!" They ran out to meet with Hosea and the other camp members.
Lily embraced her cousin tightly and then stepped back. Hosea had finished seeing the relieved mother and the oblivious child and stepped out to greet the boys.
"Are you boys hurt?" said Lily.
"Nah," Sam said, shaking his head. "It got tense, but the man has a good bar."
"Yeah, you smell like one," she said with a giggle.
"You fellers met Bronte?" said Hosea.
"He is… quite a character," Dutch answered. "You ever meet an Italian strong man before?"
"Not outside of a circus."
"Well, let me tell you all about him." Dutch patted his oldest friend on the shoulder. He turned his head to John. "John, go be with your family. Arthur, thank-you. And you too, Sam. Without your connections, we would've been running around Saint Denis like a bunch of Idiots, looking for that boy. We've got work to do, but first… let's have a drink."
Sam shrugged and followed the older men towards the camp. "Yeah, I could use another drink."
Lily laughed and followed, as well. "Like hell you do!"
Arthur just sighed in relief and lit a cigarette. John stood next to him, still. He kept stealing glances.
"Thank-you, Arthur, I…" John tried to speak more, but ended up sighing and clearing his throat. He could barely look at him, until he was just honest. "I don't know how to say it… thank-you."
"I understand…" said Arthur. "Come on." They walked towards the camp together. The older outlaw took a huge inhale of his cigarette and sighed. "Do as Dutch says." He looked at Abigail and Jack at the fire with the other happy campers. "Go be with your family…"
John walked off towards the fire first. For a moment, Arthur just looked on, seeing everyone, but focused on the mother, son, and father. And then, there was Sam, waving him over, a chipper smile on his face. That fool made it too hard for Arthur to start feeling sorry for himself. He finished his cigarette and joined up with everyone else.
"He's back, alright!" Uncle cheered. He already sounded like he had a drink or two, but nobody was surprised at this point.
"Come on!" Karen yelled. "Are we celebrating or what?"
Hosea had sat down. Abigail had Jack in her lap, so the older man moved and gestured for John to sit next to his wife and kid. There was room for a few more people. Karen sat down on the log with the happy little family, with Arthur and Sam on a couple of crates. The others were okay to stand. Even Dutch came to the campfire, which was kind of a rarity.
"Good to have you back here, we missed you," said Uncle. "Hey, hey… how about a song, huh?"
Javier was at his tent, but he just laughed and grabbed his guitar, making everyone excited.
"Javier, play us away!" Uncle cheered.
The sounds of guitar strings filled the air, making more of the camp members cheer, throwing their hands up. An air of warmth spread throughout the camp, despite how late it was or the fact that their camp was in the middle of an alligator infested swamp. Javier Escuella, a known killer, thief and outlaw, let his beautiful voice serenade the camp. People would jump in sometimes during the chorus.
De la Sierra Morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando
Un par de ojos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando
De la Sierra Morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando
Un par de ojitos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores…
porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones
Ese lunar que tienes, cielito lindo, junto la boca
no de lo des a nadie, cielito lindo, que a mà me toca
Ese lunar que tienes, cielito lindo, junto la boca
no se lo des a nadie, cielito lindo, que a mà me toca
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores…
porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores…
porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones
Everyone sang the last word together. There were cheerful hugs, and other camp members had started drinking in celebration.
Sam smiled, trying his best not to shed any tears. This was a good moment, for Christ's sake! Still, Sam was finally letting those words Arthur told him at Clemens Point sink in.
"Hooray!" Susan cheered. Her voice mixed in with other cheers of joy.
"Alright," Abigail said, rising to her feet with little Jack. She began leading him away, "let's give this boy a bit of space." They walked away, and John stood up and followed them.
"See you later," Jack waved to everyone.
"Good to have you back, Jackie," said Karen.
"We missed you," said Miss Grimshaw, her voice warm for once.
"Welcome back, Jack," Kieran's voice could be heard from far away.
"Thanks!" said Jack.
Even as people began to disperse and do their own thing, Sam stayed with Arthur by the fire. Javier began singing other songs and just for a while he could relax. Everyone could. With John, Abigail, and Jack gone, Sam and Arthur moved to the log by the campfire. He gripped Arthur's arm who just raised it and put it around Sam's shoulders. The younger man melted into his touch and just let themselves take it all in, surrounded by people who loved them…
Even as Sean's absence was still in the back of everyone's minds…
Jack was playing by Pearson's wagon. Abigail knelt down near him and left a bowl of stew.
"Here you go," said Abigail. "I know it ain't spaghetti, but eat up."
"Thanks, Momma," said Jack.
Abigail stood up and walked over to John who had been watching the boy while she was getting him dinner. For a moment, they stood in silence, the laughing, hollering, and singing were the only things on their minds as the sounds went through their heads.
Abigail took a deep sigh as Jack grabbed the big, grown up spoon and started digging into his food. At least living in high society for a little bit didn't spoil him from eating whatever they had.
"I feel like I can breathe again…" Abigail finally said.
At once John felt his body relaxing even more. All the aches and pains from tonight and the stiffness in his bones from his tense mood made itself known.
"I know," he responded, simply.
Abigail smiled. "Thank-you, John. I'm sorry if I was… well… I was just worried sick."
John wasn't good at these kinds of situations. He had his hands on his gun belt and tried to move his mouth to make words… happen.
"Ain't nobody ever gonna take him again," said John. "I swear." John looked away for a second, shifting a little uncomfortably. He didn't see that Abigail had glanced in his direction to smile. "So… I was thinking… maybe it would be easier for me to keep an eye on him if we all stayed together. You know, in my room."
Abigail almost let her jaw drop, but there was no way she would let John see that. What did he just say? She turned to him once she was calm enough.
"You mean like a normal family?"
John laughed. "Look around you. Ain't nothing normal about any of this."
And with a playful smack, Abigail tapped John on the shoulder. That usually meant he was right. It was the first time in forever that he heard Abigail laugh, as well
"Then, who am I to say no, Mr. Marston?" she eventually said. She moved so she was just a bit closer. John reached for her hand and Abigail scoffed, but let him hold it
And she eventually tightened her grip.
"Come on," Karen said to Kieran, who was at the back of Pearson's wagon. He was just organizing a few things. "You're not gonna live a little?"
"Uh… I don't wanna get in the way…" said Kieran.
"Not even a drink?"
"O-Okay…" Kieran said, hesitantly. "Maybe one or two."
"It's nice to see you relax for once." Sam walked over shortly after watching Kieran down a bottle of whiskey.
Karen smiled. "See, Kieran. Even Sam ain't gonna rip ya to shreds for relaxing."
"Probably because of the drink, if I'm being honest," Sam said, meaning against Pearson's butcher table with the other two. "Bronte had some good ones at his place."
Kieran shrugged. "I still don't know how you manage that. You fly off somewhere all the time, knowing you could get shot."
"Weren't you…" Sam paused for a moment, "uh, running with other outlaws for a while?"
Kieran kicked a nearby rock. "Yeah, well… I was pretty much doing what I am right now."
"Aw, you're fine," Karen said, giving him a pat on the back. It was a bit too sudden and Kieran almost fell forward, but he just stood back up and laughed it off
"Yeah… just… I don't know how you do what you do…"
"Geez…" Sam said, gulping down another bottle of whiskey. "I was just some fool, before I started shooting people. It don't make it any less scary, though. You're gonna be scared when it happens, even when you're the aggressor. Still wish I was there for robbing the bank in Valentine, though."
"Aw, you'll get your chance," said Karen. "But yeah, it was fun."
"Rub it in…" Sam grumbled. "Anyway, Kieran. Didn't you save Arthur once?"
"Well, yeah…" said Kieran, "but I was just lucky."
Sam sighed. "Alright. Since you saved Arthur, I'll show ya how to be a better shot."
Kieran gawked at him. "Seriously?"
Sam raised the bottle of whiskey close to his lips. "I'm already teaching you and Jack how to read, so why not?" He took a deep swig of his drink. "But, you'll have to remind me in the morning, because I might forget."
Kieran could only laugh. It was the first time he felt like he could genuinely do that here.
Dutch finally felt like he could relax, as well, after all that craziness. He and Hosea were shooting the breeze a few feet away from the party in some fold out chairs. He had finished explaining what happened to his old friend.
"Feller's a blowhard, but stocks a fine bar," said Dutch. "I went in there with a gun and left with a party invitation."
"That so?" said Hosea.
"The mayor's holding a garden party and we're invited. Us simple country boys."
"I thought we were here to just get Jack back and leave."
Dutch nodded. He leaned back in his chair, cigar in his hand.
"And I hear you more or less pushed Sam into doing some jobs for this Bronte feller," Hosea continued. "The boy is-"
"I can't be giving Sam special treatment just because we share blood," said Dutch. "If he's brave enough to accompany us to Bronte's he can handle himself. If we're going to leave, anyway, we need more money and the thing in Rhodes was… well…"
"A shitshow…" Hosea answered.
"No more losses!" Dutch affirmed. "We need to get what we need and go… put some ocean between us and all this." He gestured outwards.
Hosea leaned forward. "So now we really are going to reach Paris?"
"Very funny…"
"Oh, here he is! Mr. High and Mighty!"
The two were interrupted, when Molly came marching over to them. Her eyes were entirely focused on Dutch, but when she was almost close to them, the gang leader noticed a slight wobble in her step.
"Miss O'Shea!" Dutch greeted. He sounded grateful, but Hosea knew otherwise.
"It's Molly!" Molly said, sternly. Though her words were slurring, and she was having trouble staying still. "Molly, you-"
"You're drunk."
"I am not!"
Dutch could only chuckle. "Get some rest."
"Get some rest? Get some rest?! What am I? A child to be talked to like that?! I am a lady!" Molly cried. "A lady, well bred!" And she pointed at him with her skinny index finger that shook around in the woman's drunk demeanor. "Not some trollop off the street you can pick up, you sanctimonious bastard!"
Hosea could only sigh. She shouldn't have said that.
"I am a lady!" Molly proclaimed.
Dutch didn't move. His gaze remained on her, but Hosea knew that through those neatly trimmed, yet furrowed brows and the grace he had, staying still with that cigar, was a dark rage burning within for Molly. Of course she had no way of knowing, but what she said was like implying that his Annabelle was just some "trollop."
"Oh, yes," Dutch said, slowly. "I can see. Very ladylike."
"What is wrong with me?!" Molly snapped. "What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?!"
"I have the feeling you're about to tell me."
"You have ruined my life!" Molly cried.
Dutch leaned forward in his hair, sitting up. And in a low voice, he replied.
"I see things differently…"
"I'm sure you do…" said Molly. "You see everything differently!" Her voice quivered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Leave me alone!" And she stormed off, going past the house that was Shady Belle.
Dutch just sat there for a moment. He put the cigar back onto his lips and stood.
"I guess I'll be upstairs," he said. "Alone."
Hosea watched Dutch go inside. The old man could only lower and shake his head.
They were both idiots, but for different reasons.
"You lot… know how to throw a party… Kieran had to get dragged to bed by Mary-Beth.
"Come on, you silly fool," Mary Beth said, giggling.
Sam saw them go, and considering that it was late and some of the campers were flopping into bed, he decided to join them and wobbled into the house.
"Canta y no yoress!" Sam sang off key and a little slurred. He entered the foyer, tipsy and a little dizzy, but in a good mood. Lily was getting their cots ready. The floors were still old and uneven from lack of maintenance, so his drunken self wasn't prepared for when his foot got caught on one of the floorboards that were sticking up. He fell forward with a tiny yelp.
"Easy!"
Sam fell into a pair of arms and beamed with relaxed eyes, as he looked up and saw Arthur.
"There you are!" Sam exclaimed. Arthur helped him back to standing, but the younger man didn't let go. "Sorry… I had a few…"
Arthur chuckled. "Well, I can see that. Don't worry, me too. Now, come on."
Sam giggled as Arthur took him deeper into the house. His smile grew bigger and he laughed even more, when he realized that Arthur was taking him to his room upstairs, rather than just leaving him with Lily.
Once they were in Arthur's room and he shut the door, Arthur had trouble keeping Sam's hands off of him. He nearly pinned him to the closed door, which Arthur allowed and Sam pressed a kiss to his lips.
"Love you," Sam said, softly. He kissed him again. "So fucking much…"
"Shut up…" Arthur grumbled. "Then you seriously are messed up."
Sam groaned and hid his face in Arthur's shoulder. "Then I don't care. I don't want no one to fix me."
Arthur sighed. "Shit…" He cursed as Sam nuzzled his neck.
Sam had his arms wrapped around over his shoulders, arms looping around the back of his neck. They were lucky most of the camp, except maybe Micah, didn't give a shit about them going steady. Anywhere else, they would have been tarred, feathered, hanged, drowned, torched, run over, or whatever the so-called civilized world would've called it.
"Want you…" Sam mumbled. Arthur was glad the younger man couldn't see how red he was. The feeling was mutual vice versa. Arthur grabbed his shoulders and pulled Sam away a little.
"Uh… I don't know if it's time for that, yet," said Arthur.
"Why not?" Sam whined, tilting his head back. "Jack is safe now. That's something to celebrate, ain't it? C'mon, I'm not that drunk."
"It ain't that. It's just…"
"Aw…" Sam backed off and stumbled over to the bed in the back. He sat down with an audible plop. "Okay… You ain't ready. I get it."
Arthur scratched the back of his head. He walked over and sat down next to Sam, placing his hand over his.
"Just… I don't wanna hurt you…"
Sam leaned over and placed his head on Arthur's shoulder. "Well, me neither…"
Arthur smiled, but what Sam was talking about wasn't exactly what he was meaning.
"We can still do other things if you want," Arthur then said.
Sam giggled again. "Okay… You ever…" He leaned over and whispered into his partner's ear.
"Of course," Arthur answered.
Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked. "By a man?"
"Uh… no?"
Sam held Arthur's hand. He scooted closer and they kissed some more. Arthur was a little tense with Sam in the lead, so the younger man wanted to fix that. Sure, he was nervous, too, but he was trying to help him ease into things. He put his hands on his face, felt the scruff of his growing beard and they ended up making out on the bed like a couple of teenagers. Slowly, he moved his hands down Arthur's shoulders and broad back and Arthur seemed to copy him. He also liked playing with Sam's hair, whenever he could. That being said, Sam was so glad Arthur let his own hair grow out, as well. Long golden hair…
Arthur was getting bold, digging his tongue into Sam's mouth. The younger man let him, eyes rolling back as a moan escaped him. The older outlaw tilted his chin up, letting him get deeper. Sam could taste the alcohol and cigarettes. He took a breath through his nose, moved his hands onto Arthur's toned chest, feeling his body heat through the old, worn fabric of his shirt, and slowly slipped the suspenders off his shoulders. He pushed Arthur down gently, laying him down on his back. The outlaw sighed as he did, head landing on the pillow. His body relaxed. Well, all of it except one part.
Sam kicked off his boots, tossed his coat aside and climbed into the bed, straddling Arthur's legs. He undid Arthur's gun belt.
"Let me know if you need me to stop," said Sam. But with that deep crimson on his face and the gentle smile, how could Arthur disappoint him?
Arthur closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He felt the fabric of the pillow beneath his head and the fabric of the new sheets on the bed, set up by the girls. He had done this before, but it had just… been a while.
His hands tightened their grip on the bed, as Arthur felt his pants being undone and pulled down, air touching the exposed skin.
He felt Sam's gentle, but deadly hands touching him downstairs. Arthur gulped, body tensing in anticipation. It felt really good. His back arched off the bed as Sam rubbed at his member. Arthur took another deep breath, an arm going over and covering his mouth to stifle a moan. Just because everyone knew about them going steady, didn't mean everyone had to hear them. The outlaw's jaw dropped open once he felt Sam lips on his whistle. His eyes shot open as the young male took him deeper into his mouth.
Arthur reached for Sam, hands grabbing his dark locks of hair. There was no way in hell he was going to push him down, as much as he wanted to. As his cock reached into the younger man's throat, Arthur couldn't help the words that slipped from his mouth.
"Christ! Sam!" Arthur shouted, voice barely concealed to those outside by the skin of his hand. The suction felt so good, and damn it! It had been so long since he'd been touched. Not to mention there was barely ever any privacy in the camp. Even what they were doing right now, was a risk. He didn't remember if the door was locked, but he had no time to care at the moment.
Arthur gained the confidence to look and through his heavy breathing and twitching body, he saw Sam taking him almost all the way down to the base. This was not his first time, was it? He wondered for a moment who else had been with him, but it was probably not important.
Sam swallowed. Hard. And that was enough to send Arthur over the edge. He gripped Sam's hair so hard that the younger man let out a muffled yelp.
"SAM!" Arthur shouted through his gritted teeth, his arm keeping the shout quiet.
Still, Sam stayed where he was, swallowing it all down. Arthur felt Sam gag a bit, but he didn't move until Arthur was spent.
Finally, Sam pulled off of him, sitting back on his knees, drool dripping down from his mouth, eyes half lidded and a deep crimson on his face. Despite his hands still shaking, he used them to guide Sam over. The younger man crawled on top of him, their lips meeting, Arthur able to taste himself on Sam's lips. Then he pushed Sam off, a yelp escaping as Arthur sluggishly sat up and pushed Sam down some more until he was the one lying down on the pillow. Arthur pulled his own pants back up.
"Oh, you don't have to," said Sam.
"Stop speaking nonsense," Arthur then grumbled. He took a few more deep breaths, mind still foggy from what he just experienced. "Now lay still, boy."
Sam's mouth straightened along with the rest of his body. Somehow, being commanded by the man he loved like that sent shivers down his spine.
He closed his eyes to try and relax and heard Arthur rustling around with his satchel. Then, there were hands on his waist, pulling down his pants. His boots came off, too. Arthur kicked off his own and settled onto the bed, Sam looking up at the older outlaw, who spread his legs apart, gently.
Before anything else, Arthur pulled out his bandana and leaned over the young man tying it on Sam's face, parting his lips and gagging him. He let out a gentle whimper as he tied it off, but it was necessary considering how much Sam could scream. Still, it was quite a sight to see Sam half naked and spread out on the bed, blushing like a maiden.
Sam looked straight up at the roof as when he caught a glance of Arthur pouring something on his fingers. He gulped around the cloth in his mouth. He knew what was coming, and knowing just made his own cock twitch in anticipation.
Arthur had one of Sam's legs over his shoulder, before Sam could feel a slick covered finger prodding at his entrance. He breathed around the gag and let Arthur's digit slip in, his head tilted back on the pillow with a groan.
It was new, doing this with a man. At least, it was with Arthur. Sam was very soft on the inside, almost like the young man's gentle finger and lips, which were such a contrast to how he was when the guns were drawn.
Finally, Arthur brushed over something that made Sam roll his eyes back and arch off the bed with a muffled whine. Arthur could only grin, seeing Sam trying to say his name through the cloth in his mouth. So, he kept going, poking and prodding that special spot.
One finger became two, and Sam could stop the tears rolling down from his eyes. For so long, he wanted something like this, and now it was happening: Someone wanting and taking their time with him as he could just come undone without fear.
Two fingers became three and they went in just a bit deeper. They touched his sweet spot a bit harder and Sam finally understood the purpose of the gag. His head fell back and arched his back again as he screamed, shooting onto his shirt. His knees would've snapped shut, if Arthur's big frame hadn't stopped them. Sam held the edges of the bed and his heels dug into the mattress below him.
Soon he relaxed, his body flopping back down onto the bed as his chest heaved. He opened his eyes, vision slightly blurry as he came down from his high. He groaned as he felt Arthur's fingers leave him. A breath escaped from his mouth as Arthur undid the bandana on his face and used it to clean up his hands and the mess he made in his nether regions.
"Sorry…" Sam spoke, almost breathlessly.
"It's alright," said Arthur. Sam couldn't even glare back as the older man gave him that snarky grin. "You enjoyed yourself, right?"
Sam could only nod in response. He let Arthur take off his dirtied shirt and just left on the floor with other clothes he'd taken off. The gloves he had even came off for the first time in a while.
Arthur just took off his shirt and was quick to get back to Sam's side. He loved how messy Sam's hair had gotten from all that squirming on the bed. They laid there with their minds foggy and their cheeks crimson. Arthur was behind Sam, his arms around the younger man's naked form, back touching his chest, skin to skin. He then pulled a thin blanket over them.
"So glad Jack's okay…" Sam finally mumbled after the silence. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open.
"Me too…" said Arthur. He wished he could say the same about Sean. May he rest in peace…
"What do we do now?"
"I'm sure Dutch'll figure it out with Hosea," Arthur said, his voice tired, giving it a rasp that Sam secretly loved. His hot breath touched Sam's scalp. "Don't you worry. Let's just get some rest."
Sam could only sigh. His eyes finally lost the battle with sleep and completely stayed closed.
"Love you…" he whispered as he drifted off.
Arthur nuzzled Sam's head as he closed his eyes, as well, an arm rubbing his torso. This time, he did not tell Sam to shut up. He hesitated, but the words managed to wobble out.
"Love you, too…"
A/N: Alright. Sorry this took a while. It's kind of hard to write smut when your brother's computer monitor is also the TV to the living room. x,D
Also, I might have to move the days I upload to Mondays or Tuesdays, because weekdays are the only days that my older brother and twin brother work. My twin has a computer, but if he's home, he's on it all day, which he can be if he wants. It's his computer. My older brother, though, spends all his time in the living room when he's home.
I am trying to save up for a new laptop since my old one just… dropped dead. I'll just suck it up when they're here and type stuff up on my phone if I have to. :P