ANYTHING, ANYONE ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ vii

It sounds endlessly stupid to say it out loud — which is why you don't — but watching the world go by from the back of Arthur's horse is calming. Tranquil.

There's a sense of safety that surrounds you when your knee touches Arthur's while you sit on the crammed wagon seat. You feel like there's bulletproof glass between you and the whole world, like nothing can touch you even if it was hellbent on it.

The horses trot leisurely, Arthur spurs them on with a whip of the reins. There's silence between you, and though neither of you seem to mind it, you'd rather put an end to it. Arthur's taking you into town because he figured you'd be good company, thus, you're not about to disappoint him.

So you speak up.

"Never even realized how much I'd missed the outside world, to be honest."

It takes Arthur a split second longer to answer, he's staring straight ahead thoughtfully before he finally glances sideways at you. You fear you've interrupted one of his internal monologues, perhaps, but he shows no signs of annoyance.

"Camp has a tendency to do that to ya."

How would he know? He's out and about all day, especially with Dutch's new errands.

But you don't say that. You figure it takes him a leap of faith to show empathy to your situation, especially with the tough facade he seems to like to keep up. You won't dismiss his efforts with some dumb comment.

But he notices, picks up on your expression. Arthur's becoming an expert when it comes to reading you, maybe even too good with his approach. As opposed to you, he's much more stone-faced, and even after roughly two months spent sharing a tent and the care of a child, you need focus and finesse to figure out what exactly is going on inside his head.

"I know it don't sound believable, but I used to spend a lotta time 'round camp. A lotta years back. Dutch 'n Hosea, well..." Arthur glances sideways, at you. He looks like he's recalling something old, but treasured and pleasant. The tiniest of smiles tugs on only one corner of his mouth. "They found me when I was jus' a kid. Fourteen, fifteen, maybe. That's when I used to spend a lotta time 'round camp, learnin' how to read, shoot a gun, n' everythin' else. I remember when I left for the first time in weeks, even the damn general store was interestin'."

You give a honest chuckle, Arthur smiles in return.

"So it's been...what, fifteen years, now, since they found you?"

Surprised by how quickly you've put it all together, Arthur hides it before it becomes too obvious that he's impressed, and instead nods.

You hum thoughtfully. Fifteen years is...quite something, you now understand where his undying devotion to Dutch stems from. Aside from the subtle manipulation, of course.

But you won't bother with Dutch now. You have some free time, with Arthur, outside camp. Thinking about the gang leader is the last thing you feel like doing.

"And I thought a few months was already something." You lean back in the seat, settle your hands in your lap. The sunlight feels nice on your skin, today's going to be a pleasant day.

"Depends on how long you's plannin' on stayin'." Arthur answers, then tugs the reins to the side to make a left. The two of you glance at each-other at the same time, your gazes connect. Arthur's the first one to look straight ahead after a few seconds. "I remember when Hosea brought ya to camp for the first time four months ago. You was so scared that y'could barely walk."

And you thought he wasn't easily deceivable. Turns out Arthur Morgan is as susceptible to mercy as the next person. A pleasant surprise.

"That's what I wanted y'all to think." You give a smirk. "I could barely move forward because I had eleven stolen pocket watches hidden under my skirt."

Arthur pulls a face that embodies surprise, you figure he can't hide it now. It makes you oddly proud.

He looks at you with a grin. "Ain't you full o' surprises?"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You suppress a giggle as you hop off the carriage, trotting up to Arthur, who waits beside the horses for you. "Really? He can't swim?"

Arthur smiles, turns to the direction of the general store, nods for you to follow. "I ain't jokin'. Our golden boy was even scared of baths, 'n it was usually me that had to haul him into the river to solve that."

You discover Arthur is a gold mine (as if that hadn't already been obvious). He's one of the founding members of the gang, and thus, he has a wide collection of stories to tell about every single one of the people that have once been or are part of the gang.

The two of you snicker as Arthur stops in front of the store.

"Right, well, pick yer poison. Go shoppin' with me or snatch up a thing or two from the saloon, over that way, then to the left."

Getting back into your old business sounds tempting, thrilling, though spending more time with Arthur isn't an offer you'd turn down either.

You figure you've had your portion of adrenaline for the day since Dutch had woken you up quite unexpectedly. Something more mellow sounds nice.

It's decided, then. You hook your arm around Arthur's, tug him towards the shop.

"I've decided."

I wanted to thank the lovely Worried_Sickk for the gorgeous fanart she's made of the grasshopper scene from chapter five! She's super talented and a sweet bean, and I greatly enjoy chatting with her and exchanging ideas. Thank you once again, love!

Also, I'm aware this chapter's really short, but it's actually because it initially was over 2k words long and I decided to split it in two segments. There's another one coming today, so stay tuned!