#'Staring up at Sebastian - at the man raised to legend upon the streets he holds hallowed - Charles wants' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rcris123 · 5 years

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“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?”

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn’t she...

#rdr2 #red dead redemtion 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #van der linde gang #sebastian castellanos #sebthur #ruben victoriano #tew ruvik #nsft

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