Chapter Text
A fire. The smell of burning wood. The stars.
The stench of whiskey.
You were in a field, in the middle of nowhere again. Having your 'Alone time', as you liked to call it. This alone time was becoming an unhealthy and expensive habit that you couldn't break. Alone time was you riding out far away from camp, at least an hour away, to get completely and utterly blackout drunk. It was nothing new for you to disappear for a few days, and then re-appear, everyone at camp had grown accustomed to these moments from you- not that they encouraged your brutal onslaught to your liver.
This week was especially stressful- attempting to pull a train heist with your team had proved exhausting. And then Dutch went and ruined the damn thing for Micah. Breaking that fool out of jail was more important than providing for your gang, obviously.
Thinking about the past week made you huff, frustratingly, aloud. So, you then flopped onto your back, and stared at the night’s sky. Your campfire crackled next to you as you observed the night, this was definitely your favourite part of alone time. The twinkling of the stars, the brooding night sky, the glimmering moon floating in the sky- it was kind of poetic, the moon practically hanging in the sky, alone, only showing it’s true form, its true beauty, at during the night- it kind of reminded you of yourself.
Speaking of you, at this moment, while swirling your third whiskey bottle around in your hand, you were blissfully unaware of the person approaching you.
“(name), (lastname), fancy seein’ you sprawled out here.” The person snorted,
“Arthur fucking Morgan, right back at’cha”, you huffed, a smile spreading on your drunken face. “I hope youse weren’t comin’ to find me out here, I’m sure you know how much I loooove my alone time”.
“Naw, I wouldn’t willingly come to bother ya,” he said, while he hunkered down next to you, “I just managed to come across you havin’ the time of yer life”, he smirked and you let out a hearty snort.
“I wouldn’t call drinkin’ till I physically can’t the time of my life you know, Arthur” you huffed, rolling onto your stomach to rest your head on the grass below.
Arthur laid on his back, while looking at the sky he asked, “Oh? Then what is?”. “Doin’ it with a friend”, and a mischievous smirk spread across your features, so you passed him one of your bottles. Arthur let out a breathy chuckle, and took the golden-brown bottle out of your hand.
“Don’t think you’d want to be a friend with a big bad outlaw like me”, he chuckled, and you let out another snort. “Bah!”, you took another swig out of your bottle, “To think that I, the innocent, young, impressionable lady would hang out with such a ruffian! The outrage!” You dramatically cried, making Arthur let out his signature chuckle again. He was starting to loosen up around you, which was nice. Usually, around camp you would be too nervous to approach Arthur. He was the tall, dark and brooding type, and you were too intimidated by this sharp shooter to waltz up and begin a conversation. How would you even do it? “Howdy there Arthur! I want to strike up a lovely conversation with you because I find you hot!”. That would probably make him put a bullet in your temple. Good thing the whiskey was giving you a confidence boost.
“Why do you even come out ‘ere in the first place?”, Arthur snorted, taking a swig from the bottle. You let out a thoughtful hum. To escape. But you couldn’t say that, he would probably call you a traitor or something. A traitor to the gang, to your chosen family. “Hmmmm… Usually to take a break from everythin’. Like- there’s nothing wrong with the gang- I, ah, I just get stressed ya know?” You fumbled with your words. You didn’t want to leave the gang, but you need breaks from shit like Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging, Micahs disgusting attempts at flirting, Dutch’s stupid proposals. This time Arthur let out a hum, “I get ya, it gets hard being with them all the time. A buncha misfits.”, and you let out a satisfied breath.
“My turn now!”, you breathed, “What are you doin’ out here, Mr Morgan?”. Arthur took another gulp from the bottle, and tossed, the now empty bottle, aside.
“Like you. To escape kinda.” He huffed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Oh. He was like you. He understood you. “Last bottle”, he grunted, and opened your prized gin.
“Ahh not that one yet- that’s my favourite!” You whined, sitting up and reaching for the bottle. Arthur moved the bottle out of your reach, and you let out a frustrated groan. “I think you’ve had enough, missy.” He teased, and you let out another huff. “Let’s share? C’mon Arthur- It’s, it’s pink gin!” You begged, pulling on his arm. Your limbs felt like jelly, your vision was getting kinda blurry, and your head was all fuzzy, but you came out here with a purpose, and that was to get blackout drunk. You would not leave until you completed your mission.
Arthur tutted at your feeble attempt to get the bottle, “I might have to confiscate the rest this back at your tent”, he teased again. “Noooooo”, you groaned, and this is when you decided to pull the best card from your sleeve. So you kissed Arthur Morgan. This kiss was quick but was probably the best in your life. Adrenaline mixed with the overwhelming confidence you developed from your excessive drinking made this kiss so much better for you. The contact was sudden, your lips touched his, and you could feel how soft his were. You felt his stubble brush your mouth briefly, and Arthur sunk into the kiss, moving his hand to cup your face. You could smell the whiskey from his mouth, and his usual smell, piny with a hint of metal. And then you swiped the bottle from the distracted man.
“AHA!” You cried, you then proceeded to get up and drunkenly run away with the bottle, giggling along the way.
You could hear Arthur let out a string of blasphemies, and shuffle to chase after you.
And that is where your memory of the night ended.
And now, here you were, naked. In Arthur Morgan’s tent.