Mr Van der Linde | Dutch x Reader

Year II - Term II

A/N: This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I've provided more of my thought process at the end as I don't want to spoil the plot up here, but it's there if you want to take a look beforehand!

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Chapter word count: 5,532

Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn't the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you'd be finished with lectures for the term.

Fast-forward to then, he'd picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he'd rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn't have much time to explore, since as soon as you'd entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I've missed you he'd said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.

"I was thinking," he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, "we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. "Where's there to eat around here?"

"Uh," Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, "there's not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here."

"Either will do," you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. "I still can't believe you arranged this."

"Well, I knew you couldn't weasel your way out of it if we had something booked."

"I don't weasel my way out of anything -"

"No?" Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, "assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?"

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. "All valid excuses."

"Whatever you say, miss," he chuckled light-heartedly. "I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration," he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.

"Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?"

"I believe," he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. "You're now halfway through your time at university, correct?"

"Sort of," you took the glass from him, "technically, it's not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though."

"And," he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, "it's been a year since you and I met."