Dutch's Daughter [[RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC]]

chapter 16; paybacks a b!tch

[A/N] ~ I was NOT planning on releasing these next two chapters so soon but I'm about to enter a very hectic few days so I figured I would give the people what they want! It may be awhile before I am able to write again, my best friend is getting married and I'm her MOH so I am busy, busy, busy! 

The end of this chapter gets a tiny bit hot but it's just fluff :)

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Camp is still, unmoving, most of its occupants hard asleep within their tents. Arthur, Charlotte and Sean ride in quietly, careful not to wake anyone. In the light of a single burning fire, Dutch and Hosea reminisce over tin cups of, ironically, moonshine. Dutch's face lights up at the sight of his returned daughter, standing so quickly that his chair topples over into the dirt. The fact that she's still clinging to Arthur goes unnoticed by him as he rushes to her side, yanking her off the horse into a tight embrace. The burns covering the horse and it's rider, however, do not go unnoticed.

"What the hell happened?" Dutch hisses, his relief turning to frustration.

"I'll explain everythin' but we're tired, had a long night-" Arthur starts but the vexed leader cuts him off.

"I think you'll explain right now, Mr. Morgan. My girl is injured." Dutch pulls Charlotte's arm to show a wound on her wrist. "How could you let this happen on your watch?"

Arthur swallows hard, fingernails digging into his palms as he fights the urge to put the son of a bitch in his place. "With all due respect, Dutch, you didn't seem to care so much when she was so beat up after that job you sent her on in Strawberry."

Dutch scoffs, dropping her hand. Arthur's face turns red, seething, blind loyalty keeping him from saying what he's thinking.

"That whole mess was her own goddamn fault."

That did it. Those words were all he needed to hear. Arthur pulls his arm back, hurling his fist through the air and connecting with Dutch's jawbone. The gang leader stumbles backwards, stunned and speechless. Before he can counteract, Arthur is on him again, pounding his fist into his already crooked nose.

"Stop! Stop it you two!" Charlotte shouts, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders in attempt to pull him off her father. Sean and Hosea join her, their strength a welcome aid in parting the two abundantly strong men.

"The hell is going on?" Micah slithers out from his tent, sleep and confusion fogging his eyes. It doesn't take him long to connect the dots, throwing himself into the action.

It isn't until Charles drags Dutch out from under Arthur's anger driven blows that the fight stops. Charles helps the leader to his feet, handing him a handkerchief to wipe the blood dripping from his nose. Charlotte puts herself in between them, arms up and eyes fixed on Arthur.

"What's gotten into you boy? Wailin' on your old man?" Dutch hollers, fingers pressed to his bloody lip.

"He's exhausted, Dutch, you've been working the boy too hard. He don't know what he's doing. Let's all just get some sleep and talk about this in the morning." Hosea's smooth voice succeeds in calming the high nerves of the gathered crowd.

The two men glare at each other, reading their faces carefully. Lines had been drawn and true emotions revealed. After what feels like eternity of silence, Dutch turns and walks towards his tent, the crowd simultaneously breaking apart to do the same thing. Molly waits for him, wrapped in a lush fur coat, her green eyes practically burning holes through Charlotte before turning to follow her lover inside.

Void of his adrenaline rush, Arthur keels over his knees with a powerful cough. Struggling to catch his breath, his lungs rattle violently. Hosea comes to his side, placing a hand on his back, a look of worry on his face.

"You okay, son?"

Arthur straightens his back, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of his lip. "Fine, fine. Just... got carried away."

Charlotte watches him, brows furrowed with concern. "You don't sound okay."

"I said I'm fine, Little Lottie." Arthur smiles weakly at her. 

"Go on, then, get some sleep you two. You've created a whole slew of problems for us to deal with in the morning." Hosea grumbles, waving them away before slipping off to his own tent. 

They find themselves alone, a single burning log providing just enough light to see each others faces. With dozens of ears close by, It isn't a safe place for them to talk. When they reach Charlotte's lean to, they linger outside the door in the comforting company despite the lowering temperature. She wants to reach out and grab his hand, stroke his cheek and kiss him but she can't. After everything she's been through tonight, this by far was the most painful. 

"'Spose I'd better say goodnight." She stutters.

Arthur remains unmoving, head cocked downwards to look at her but his eyes are glossed over, staring through.

"Don't you think you'd better get some sleep?"

"I... I almost lost you today. I don't want to leave you just yet." His forefinger traces the side of her hand, the tiniest bit of contact that would likely go unnoticed in the case of hidden eyes watching them.

Charlotte looks down at his touch, sliding her hand into his. She takes a step forward, daring to allow herself to get close to him. Looking back at up him, she sees the visible changes in his face. His eyes are red around the edges, cheeks the tiniest bit sunken in and beard grown out past what he usually keeps it. Dutch has been working him to death. Charlotte thinks to herself, cradling his cheek in her hand, throwing caution to the wind.

"Come with me then." Charlotte coos, pulling him into her tent. 

He hesitates at the entrance, giving one final scan over the camp to make sure no one is watching before ducking inside, pulling the cover shut behind him. Beneath the canvas walls lies her cot with her favorite wool blanket spread over, the same empty barrel serving as a night stand and the picture of her mother. The only upgrade she's bothered to add is the tanned hide of a deer she'd scored on a hunting trip laid across the floor. 

Gently, her hands slide Arthur's coat off, setting his hat on the table. Pressing into his shoulders, she sets him on the edge of the bed. She pulls her muddy boots off, tossing them aside before starting on the buttons of her shirt and jeans. Once undressed, she returns her attention to her cowboy, pulling his burnt shirt off in one smooth motion. He climbs under the thick blanket, patting the pillow to motion for her to join him. Charlotte smiles, curling up beside him, her head resting on his warm chest. 

The same peace she felt in her dream so long ago washes over her now. Arthur had become her only safe place, her only escape from the terrible reality she's been living in. The one source of comfort in the face of danger. What had started as an arrangement to satisfy one another's needs despite being mortal enemies was beginning to turn+ into something more. Something neither of them had seen coming. There they lie, cozied up together in the warmth of her bed and letting sleep overcome them.