HIGHWAYS & BYWAYS ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ iv

"Got everythin'?" Arthur asks, one shoulder leaned against the wall by the door of your small apartment. He has driven the two of you to your humble home so that you can fetch clothes for a week, so here you are now: dragging a bag of essentials out of your bedroom.

"Think so." You huff, then lift the tightly packed carrier, walking towards the exit, where he awaits. Arthur offers to take your bag for you, but you decline, so he doesn't insist further. Instead, he takes one last look at your apartment before trotting out after you. He waits for you to lock the door, and does end up intervening when the bag slides off your shoulder and stops on your forearm, pulling it down. That makes locking the door even more of a pain than it already is, and you thank Arthur for his help.

It's hard to focus on something as trivial as locking the door when your heart is hammering so wildly in your chest, and you yourself are a bundle of adrenaline and excitement.

Are you going on a roadtrip with someone that's practically been a stranger to you not more than three hours ago? Yes. Is it a foolish thing to do? Perhaps. Will that stop you? Absolutely not.

"I'm glad you're not one of 'em people that takes the entire damn house with them when they leave." Arthur huffs, then adjusts the bag on his shoulder as a wordless answer for your demand to carry it yourself. He begins walking down the stairs, then nods for you to follow.

"Well, limiting myself to a literal bare minimum wasn't a joyride either." You jog down the stairs after him, stopping when he does as well and opens the door for you. You want to laugh through your nose in amusement, and you do, but his insistent look is endearing. Perhaps Arthur is the product of a one night stand between a cowboy and a gentleman.

Or perhaps you're being an idiot at nine in the evening.

The man raises a brow in confusion when he sees the smile on your face, so you shake your head dismissively. Your shoulder accidentally brushes against his barreled chest when you walk past him, and he sucks in a breath.

The two of you walk in silence back to his pickup truck, and he stores your luggage in the back. You're quicker this time, and arrive at the door first. He was telling the truth about it being rusty. It's a pain to open, but you manage — just about.

He awaits in the car, smug little smirk tugging on one corner of his mouth when you plop down next to him.

"Told you it was rusty."

You chuckle to yourself as you put on your seatbelt and the engine purrs to life. "And here I was, thinking you were a true gentleman."

"Wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. 'M full of disappointments, miss (l/n)."

It's silent once again as he drives away.

You look at your continuously shrinking apartment complex in the rearview mirror, and ultimately lose sight of it when the path Arthur takes leads you around a corner. Had you done the right thing?

He takes notice of your expression, hesitates, but ultimately decides to be bold. As bold as you could expect Arthur Morgan to be when it comes to social interactions, at least. "Wasn't expectin' you to say yes to my half-assed proposition, to be honest."

You raise a brow, and for the first time, you're able to get a rough idea of what exactly is going on inside his head. He's offering you a chance to change your mind, to say no.

"Why shouldn't I? You said it gets lonely, and hey, as great as the internet and Netflix are, I get lonely too." You shrug. "I figured it's symbiotic."

"I'm gonna pretend I know what the hell that means."

The both of you chuckle like two idiots, and you're now sure you've made the right choice. This is much better than anything you could hope to do at home.

As much as you hate to admit it, having company — especially one like Arthur's — is something you have greatly missed. You guess the feeling is mutual, but you're not quite sure. Not yet, at least.

"So, where to now?"

"We gotta be back by Macfarlane's ranch at midnight. There's a real nice campin' spot nearby, and I guess it's...kinda become tradition to stop by there at this point." He explains, then looks at you, seeming to await approval of some sort before adding. "Was plannin' on drivin' around New Austin after that."

If assurance is what he needs, assurance is what he shall receive. You're happy to comply, after all. "Sounds perfect."

You smile and sink into the leathered seat again, but this time, not out of embarrassment, but in an attempt to accommodate yourself further. He turns on the air conditioner, and makes it cold before angling it upwards so that it hits neither of you directly. It's a welcome addition to the warm evening air.

Arthur taps his fingertips against the steering wheel as if he wants to say something. And he does. "Do you wanna..."

You decide it can't hurt to familiarize yourself a bit with his taste in music while he talks, and reach for the cassettes stored between the car seats. So does he. Your hands brush against each-other, and while you minutely flinch, Arthur almost jumps back in surprise.

"Sorry." The both of you blurt at the same time. You're the one to break the awkwardness with a chuckle, and Arthur follows, relief washing over his expression. Why does he make you feel so giddy?

"What were you saying?" You ask, remembering he'd started a sentence just before you'd accidentally interrupted him.

"Ah, was, um...was 'bout to suggest you look through my music 'n see if you like anythin'." He looks at you for a second, then back at the road, which is illuminated by the headlights of his truck. "...but I reckon you're curious 'nough to be one step ahead of me."

"Well, curiosity did kill the cat." You laugh through your nose as you trace your fingers over the cassettes, picking them up one by one to look through them, then placing the ones you particularly like in your lap. They're not arranged in any specific order, at least none that you can pick up on. He has a little bit of everything that can be considered tranquil. Jazz, country, blues, even some classical pieces, though those are a bit more well hidden. No rock (unless they're rock ballads, which he has a handful of) or heavy metal in sight, which you would've considered a surprise prior to knowing him.

"But satisfaction brought it back." Arthur argues, and you can't bear to hold back your grin anymore.

You fish out a cassette that has 'Best of the best' written on it in sharpie, and place it in the car radio. "It did indeed."