Red Dead Redemption II [ one shots ]

"Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover" - A.M (Part Two)

I'd been running with Dutch's gang now for over a month. I'd been sent on all types of missions, and have to say this life is more enjoyable than that of a lone assassin. It felt good to have people watching out for you, and wanting to talk with you.
I still use my special skills, as Hosea enjoys my ability to play the part of an innocent little lady. My fighting style also seems to interest and delight the men– I've even found a sparring partner in Charles, much to the dismay of a certain gunslinger.

Ah, yes. My partner, more often than not, in all of this is the gruff Mr. Morgan. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't developed intense feelings for the old cowboy. He'd been subtly protective and possessive over me ever since I joined the gang, always trying to hold on to me and keep me safe. I'd been holding out hope that those behaviors were indications that he cared more than he let on– that he'd be interested in me in more of a romantic sense rather than just another comrade. But to date, all that's come of that is a whole lot of nothing. He's reticent, sometimes grumpy, and always ready with a lecture.
I smiled, thinking of the time Sean had gotten into a brawl at the saloon. He had ducked to avoid a punch, which had subsequently hit me. It had knocked me out, and Sean had brought me back to camp groggy and nursing one hell of a black eye. Arthur had been furious, Dutch too, if I remember correctly. But it was Arthur Morgan's brusque response to Sean's excuses that had stood out on the day. And Tilly's knowing glance as he'd worried over my face. Cutie.
I sighed, we're about to rob a train, so Arthur Morgan's feelings and behaviors are the last things I should be thinking on. I shake my head, forcibly clearing my thoughts.

A sense of apprehension runs through me as the long train approaches. My bandana snug on my face, I wait for Bill to blow the dynamite that will stop the train. Seconds go by and nothing's happened yet– the men are tensely waiting. There's a knowing feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I'm off my horse long before Bill yells in frustration. He messed up, and the dynamite isn't working.
"Goddamn it!" Dutch yells, angry at his plan's failure.
I'm already running towards the cliff, looking to jump onto the roof of the train. Jobs gotta get done one way or another.

"Y/N!" Arthur shouts as I leap into the air. I hit the train with a thud and roll up onto my feet. A few more of the men had followed my lead– A few fell, but Arthur made it and was pulling Lenny up from his precarious spot on the side of the train.

Deciding against waiting on them, I dropped down in between the cars. A few guards are waiting for me, and I move quickly, barely missing getting my head blown off. Fuck, okay.
"Shit! Y/N!" Arthur yells again at the sound of gunfire, obviously annoyed that I wasn't waiting for him. I shoot the guards, and make my way towards the front of the train. Arthur and Lenny catch up, and are providing cover fire as more guards attempt to stop us. The look Arthur sends me is full of anger, I'm assuming he's upset about my reckless actions. Whatever.

I make it to the front, killing the engineer. I pull the lever to stop the train, and guards swarm the area. Arthur, Lenny and I are fighting them off, but we'll be quickly swamped if Dutch and the others don't catch up.

I'm hiding behind a boulder, steadily advancing on the guards and shooting them down as I go. Arthur yells my name for the third time, and I turn towards him as a pain lances through my side– like a bee sting.
I crouch against the rock, and lift a hand to the sting, shocked when it comes away wet with blood. There's a buzzing in my ears, the shock fading and the pain growing. I can hear shouts and more gunfire, but it's all background noise to the pain. I grit my teeth against it, and fight the dizziness threatening to overwhelm.

I peek out from behind my cover and fire again and again, dropping the guards as they run. Lenny advanced further, taking on the stragglers as Dutch and the rest ride up.

I sigh in relief as I sit on the damp ground, my back against the rock. I press a shaky hand to my wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. I knew I was losing too much, the edges of my vision going gray. Weakly looking around for Arthur or somebody, I couldn't see anyone else. I hardly had the strength to stand, let alone shout for help.
I relaxed back against the rock, accepting my fate. My eyes are closing, but I can hear more shouting– sounds like Arthur's found me. I smile weakly, eyes finally shut.
I hear, "Goddamn woman!" before everything goes black.
---
I woke to a dull ache in my side. Blinking, I couldn't recognize the darkened tent above me.
I tried to lift my head, and succeeded. I was in Arthur's tent, laying on his bed.
The man in question was in a bed roll on the ground. I frowned, shaking my head. Why the hell am I in his bed?
I sit up, slowly swinging my legs over the side of his cot. I tried to quiet my groan as heinous pain lanced through me. Damn fucking bullets.

I gingerly pulled myself up to a half standing/half hunching position, and tried to quietly edge around Arthur's sleeping form. Unfortunately i wasn't very graceful, and accidentally bumped into his clothing chest on the way out. The noise seemed so loud in the quiet, and it caused Arthur to wake. I tensed, seeing his eyes open.
Arthur seemed confused for a second, before his eyes narrowed in recognition. He sat up, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back in bed." He demanded, pointing at the cot.
I raised a brow, "I am not a dog, Mr. Morgan– you can't tell me to get in bed. Besides, that's not my bed." I replied, panting as I tried to hobble towards my own tent.

I didn't get far. Arthur carefully grabbed hold of me and lifted me into his arms, before turning and depositing me back on his bed.
"You're staying here, where I can keep an eye on you." He said sternly, sitting on the edge of the bed. I stared up at his handsome face, his blue eyes were shadowed and his mouth tight with worry.
"This doesn't make any sense. Why am I in your bed?" I asked, grumpy.
"Because I'm keeping an eye on you." Was the vague reply I got back, as he settled himself back onto his bed roll.
"Why?" I asked, rolling to my side so I could look down at him.
Arthur opened one eye, and frowned at my movements. "Quit moving, you'll tear the stitches."
"Why was I put in your bed in the first place?" I asked, exasperated.
"Because I'm keeping an eye on you." He repeated, tilting his hat over his eyes.
I groaned at the non-answer. "You are infuriating. I'm going back to my bed– you shouldn't have to sleep on the ground." I struggled to get up again, and quick as a flash he was up and holding me down. His jaw was tight with irritation, and when he spoke each word was clipped.
"You. Are. Staying. Here." Arthur pinned me with his glare. "I don't want to see you hurting yourself further. Damn near got yourself killed yesterday."
He removed his hands and I scowled, looking away. "I don't see why you even care."
"Go to sleep." Was the reply, his voice still rasping with annoyance.
"It's no different from anyone else. If John got shot you wouldn't put him in your bed." I continued, complaining. "It's just because I'm a girl and you think I'm all dainty and delicate and can't do anything-"
Arthur's temper boiled over with my tirade and he leaned over to clap his hand over my mouth. "Just shut up would ya? Of course Marston wouldn't be put in my bed, I'm not in love with him."
My eyes went wide at his declaration, and his did too. A flush of red was crawling up his neck and cheeks, and he grumbled in annoyance, removing his hand and laying back down on his bedroll.
I rolled again, peeking over at him. Arthur's hand was covering his eyes and I couldn't help but chuckle at the big, bad gunslinger all mortified over his own feelings. Hearing my giggles, Arthur shot me a glare, which only made me laugh more. The laughter caused the sharp pain in my side to grow, and I gasped, laying on my back again.
It was quiet for a few moments.
"I love you too, you know." I said quietly, staring blankly. It was easier to admit when he couldn't see my face.
Arthur sat up, eyes wary. I met his gaze, y/e/c into blue and nodded, as if confirming, a shy smile twisting my lips. He awkwardly took my hand, and gave it a squeeze.
I shoved over on the bed, grimacing at the pain, and patted the spot beside me. Arthur looked from me to the spot, hesitant.
I rolled my eyes. "I don't bite."
He chuckled, and eased himself onto the cot, being careful not to jar me. I turned onto my good side, and he fit himself against my back, his strong arms gingerly coming around my body. Arthur sighed against my hair, and I gently stroked his arm.
"Took you long enough," I said quietly.
He chuckled again, pulling me tighter against him. "Shut up."