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pyrite · 3 years

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howdy everyone! i’m excited to share my gift for @smushystrawbabies for the @rdrevents winter exchange! i hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays, cowpokes!

pairing: none / gen summary: pre-canon; while dutch and hosea are hard at work, a young john bullies arthur into finding a little christmas cheer. words: ~1.7k

December 20, 1885

Dutch and Hosea have decided to go on with the usual heist this year, in spite of the recent changes to our gang, as Dutch now calls us. It seems the four of us were no gang at all until little Johnny Marston came along. I do not pretend to know why John changes things, small and scrawny as he is, but supposedly, we are a proper gang now. John seems awful excited about this. “Like Jack Hall,” he says, except Dutch says we are nothing like that gang of degenerate something or others. Perhaps that is why he and Hosea have headed into town to rob some rich old fools at a holiday party while I am stuck here playing warden to the kid.

————————————————

“C’mon, Arthur! We’re as much a part of this gang as Dutch and Hosea!”

Not for the first time this evening, and certainly not the last, John has attached himself to Arthur’s side to pester him about this and that. Joining Dutch and Hosea on the night’s job was his first angle, until Arthur shut him down by pointing out that the kind of job they’re running — robbing high society folk at some fancy party, dressed to the nines and speaking as eloquently as any of them — weren’t the kind with room for a twelve-year-old.

“You ask me,” Arthur told him, with the air of a man sharing a long-held secret, “missing out on this job’s its own kind of gift. You ever wear a tie, kid?” And of course John hadn’t, having been a street urchin since he was — well, a younger child than he is. “Like wearing a noose made of silk. And I know you ain’t forgotten that one.”

John’s eyes widened at that, but it only kept him at bay for an hour or so more. He approached next with some idea of robbing a train, ‘til Arthur pointed out there weren’t any trains coming through this town today, nor any time soon. They could rob a stagecoach, John supposed, but he’d had no idea where to find one when Arthur asked. A store, then, or someone leaving one, or —

“Enough!”

John skitters out of Arthur’s tent with all the grace and twice the speed of a newborn deer, nearly careening into one of the wagons in his hurry to put some distance between them. If it weren’t for the fear in those dark eyes of his, Arthur might even laugh — but he remembers too late how little Johnny reacts in the face of a man’s anger.

He softens his voice, though it still reeks of irritation.

“Why are you fixin’ to rob someone, kid? You owe someone money?” He scoffs at his own joke in the hope that a bit of levity might beckon John back into camp from the edge of it. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, you just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

It isn’t the levity, but the accusation that draws the kid in. “I don’t owe nothin’,” he objects with all the indignation his prepubescent voice can muster. “‘Cept Dutch and Hosea.”

And ain’t that an interesting thought. Looking back, Arthur reckons he might’ve pulled twice his weight around camp in that first year, operating under the same thought. Hell, he’s pulling twice his weight now, except it’s John’s weight he’s pulling instead of some invisible man’s.

Still, Arthur quirks a brow at him. “And you reckon the best way to pay ‘em back for all they’ve done for your sorry ass is to get yourself tossed in jail.”

John opens his mouth to object, but Arthur doesn’t give him the chance.

“Or shot.”

His mouth clamps shut, allowing Arthur a few peaceful moments while he sulks in silence. He’s almost sure it worked before the kid opens his damn mouth again, this time with a melancholic tone that only a kid can muster.

“I just figured… We oughta do something nice for ‘em, since it’s Christmas and all. But I ain’t got any money, and Dutch says I can’t rob nobody ‘til he’s sure I ain’t gonna get caught again.” He shifts a bit as he talks, clearly uncomfortable with the memory hanging around his neck like a goddamn albatross.

Hell if it doesn’t break Arthur’s heart to realize it, just a little bit.

That’s that, then. Always a sucker for a sob story, at least when it comes to kids. Still, he heaves a world-weary sigh as he gets to his feet, rubbing his brow as he struggles to figure out just how this kid managed to work his way under the floorboards of his heart.

“Get your coat, then. Can’t have you freezin’ on our way into town, or Hosea’ll have my head.”

That’s all it takes to spark a new fire in John’s eyes as he scrambles toward their shared tent in search of his coat and the old satchel Arthur handed down to him a week or so ago.

————————————————

The ride into the nearest town — and not the one Dutch and Hosea are working, thankfully — takes just under an hour, and John spends damn near all of it talking. He asks about the job they’re gonna pull, what they’ll do with the money, what Dutch and Hosea might like as far as gifts go. When he’s all out of questions, he tells Arthur a few stories about St. Nick that he’s heard plenty of times before, and a few about Christmas at the orphanage, which he surely hasn’t. Hearing those, it’s no wonder he’s excited to do something nice for a change. Surely ladies of the Lord would be a bit kinder than John says, but something in his voice tells him every word is the truth.

All the more reason to make this a decent Christmas, he supposes. Shouldn’t be hard, seeing as he’s never had a good one.

In his eagerness to get started on their heist, John slides right off the saddle and into the dirt as soon as Arthur stops to hitch up. It doesn’t faze him none, as he’s back on his feet in a second and asking questions a little too loudly for such a busy street.

“What’s next, huh? We robbin’ the store? Want me to distract someone while you—”

It takes a hand over his mouth to shut him up, and Arthur’s glad not to feel John’s instinctive bite through his winter gloves. “Next… is shuttin’ the hell up while we’re right in front of the damn store, you fool.” Once John realizes he’s meant to nod his understanding, Arthur lets go of him. “After that… We pick out something nice. Nothing too nice, mind. We ain’t made of money, and neither’s the poor bastard on the other side of the counter.” John nods, miraculously quiet as he awaits the next set of instructions, but none come.

“Go on, then,” Arthur urges. “When you find something, you let me know.”

They spend the better part of a half hour in the store, Arthur casually perusing while John ricochets from one shelf to the next, trying and failing to remain quiet as he hems and haws over his decision. In the interest of keeping the shopkeep at ease about their extended visit, Arthur sets a couple of nice lures on the counter — for Dutch and Hosea, naturally — and a few candies beside them, mostly for John unless he’s inclined to share in the name of holiday spirit or some such. Faced with a treat like that, all his own if he wants it, Arthur imagines the generosity he’s found now won’t last.

The shopkeep seems about ready to ask after the kid when John tugs on Arthur’s sleeve, gesturing him to lean down so he can tell him what he’s found in a way that ain’t half as discreet as he seems to think it is.

“I ain’t breaking my back to bend down to your level, Johnny. Best you just show me what you’ve picked out.”

He rolls his eyes at the shopkeep as John leads him toward some corner display, wordlessly gesturing as if it’s some big secret. There’s a book there that Arthur hasn’t seen in Dutch’s collection, though the author’s name rings a bell. Behind the display, John’s hidden a decent-looking pocket watch — no doubt for Hosea, though he won’t tell him he stole a nicer one off some Jack Hall imposter last week.

Still. The kid has taste, surprisingly enough.

As soon as he opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what the next part of their plan is, Arthur makes no small show of taking both items to the counter and paying for them along with his candies and lures. It’s nothing short of a Christmas miracle that John waits until they’re outside to object to the legality of it all.

“What was all that sneakin’ around for if we weren’t robbin’ him?” He demands as Arthur lifts him onto Hippolyta’s back. “You ain’t gonna turn around and hold him up soon as you send me off, are you? ‘Cause I’ll turn right around, I’ll—”

Goddamn, if the kid can’t talk himself into a tizzy. “First off, you can’t hardly turn a horse any direction but straight. Forget about turning all the way around.”

John pouts, which effectively shuts him up long enough for Arthur to make his point.

“Far as I’m concerned, we’ve done our business here. Ain’t no reason to rob a man who’s just trying to make a living, seeing as it’s Christmastime and all that.” Before John can say anything, Arthur preemptively interrupts him. “What Dutch and Hosea are doing is different. Them’s high society folk, throwing fancy parties just to show off all the money they got in their pockets. Way we see it, if they got enough money to feed half the damn town as well as they do for a night, they can spare a little cash to feed the homeless for a week. Don’t take half as much, neither. People in need just want something to fill their stomachs; they ain’t askin’ for oysters.”

They’re both quiet after that. Arthur because he’s said all he needs to say, and John because he’s thinking on what was said, he hopes. It’d be nice if some of that got through that thick skull of his…

But the first thing he says, about twenty minutes out, is:

“What’s an oyster?”

#rdrevents #smushystrawbabies #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #arthur morgan #happy holidays cowpokes!!!!!!

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