WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XXII

[Sorry for taking so long! School has been a mess, and this chapter ended up being twice as long as the other ones. Here it is nonetheless! Have fun♥️]

The rest of the day was spent with sewing up Arthur's clothes, having an impromptu nap on a wooden chair you had pulled up next to his — well, technically, your — bed, and helping your aunt with work around the ranch until the late afternoon.

Cathy had tasked you with various chores while she had retreated for some rest around five in the afternoon. You didn't mind. With her lupus having grown worse and worse over the past couple of months, you could at least take some of the load off.

After getting everything over with, you returned to the small house. You found your aunt sitting in her rocking chair in the living room, holding Arthur's jacket and looking at it with a scoff.

"That's...um...that's his." You clarified with a nod in the direction of your dormitory. "Arthur's, I mean."

"Yes, I could tell by how horribly it's stitched up."

"Ah, that...would be my work."

"Well, he sure as hell hasn't woken up to fix it himself, so I figured." She clicked her tongue, then stood up to retrieve her sewing kit.

You watched wordlessly as she cut open the clumsy stitches you had made, removing the thread before getting to work.

Did that mean you were dismissed? Or was she waiting for you to say something? Do something? Sighing awkwardly, you crossed your arms and moved your weight from one leg to another.

"Well...?" Aunt Cathy asked, looking up at you through her lashes. "Aren't you going to check on your beloved..." — she paused for effect — "friend?"

"He's not—" You began, but flinched when you heard the sound of metal clashing against wood somewhere in another room. Your room.

"Love calls." Your aunt spoke up with a shit-eating grin, then shooed you away with a dismissive wave of her hand. You bit your lip in embarrassment and walked away, to the source of the sound.

You found Arthur (more or less) standing up, using the nightstand for support, breath heavy as he clutched his injured shoulder. His gun belt was what had produced the sound, since you had left it on the nightstand and it had fallen onto the wooden floor.

Arthur was staring at you like some kind of startled feral animal, ready to either fight or flee, blue gaze sharp and analytical of you.

"Hey." You said in the perhaps most demure way possible, which left Arthur furrowing his brows and trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not. When you audibly swallowed and slowly approached him, he realized he wasn't. Probably. "How's your wound?"

"Y'know they don't pay you more just because you patched me up, don'tcha?" The outlaw spoke up, voice ragged and dry, as if he'd just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in one go. Arthur struggled to straighten up, but ended up losing his balance and having to brace himself against the wall. His gaze, in spite of his physical state, was alert in every single sense of the word, picking up on every small movement and gesture of yours.

"I know." You clarified with your palms turned up in submission. "But I'm not...I'm not going to turn you in."

He looked at you, his head slightly tipping to the side in confusion. "Then what're...why..."

You took one step closer, picking up his gun belt as you went. Arthur flinched both towards you and away from you the moment you did, frame tensing, then relaxing when he realized you had set it back on the nightstand.