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Arthur Morgan was always so cold to him. Even after years and years of running beside him, the man had never seemed to warm up. His humor always biting and mean. A clear facade for- For something. 

Wondered if he just was always like this from the moment he was born. 

The times John and Arthur bonded were minimal and yet for some reason it kept him striving for Arthur’s approval more than anyone in camp. More than Dutch, more than Hosea. Approval- Approval wasn’t even a thing he normally sought. He couldn’t give a rats ass if Dutch liked him the best. Which, he didn’t even find remotely true, but he heard about it a lot.

And it seemed like his lack of caring for such a thing made him look ungrateful- Or at least that’s what Arthur would describe him as. Insults formed as jokes never funny enough for John to laugh with him. Always at his expense. 

John was only a damn kid and it was like Arthur at every turn took his naivety personally.

It was ridiculous. 

Yet… When Arthur did praise him, for anything, John would find himself caring a little too much. 

The rare smile from the older man, filled with satisfaction, always surprised. “You did good, kid.”   Sent John over in delight.

Instead of the soured look. Roll of his eyes. Shrug of his shoulders. “Little Johnny Marston making a fool of himself again. Even God babies you hard enough to not have your face eating dirt in the desert. Though I'm guessin' it’ll make sure it gets the rest of us first with your idiocy.” 

John Marston was only fourteen when he said that.

Their relationship was rolling a large boulder up a mountain.

When Mary hung around Arthur seemed to ease up on everyone. He was unsure if anyone in camp truly liked her, but John didn’t involve himself in gossip. Took advantage of Arthur’s kindness when he could, despite usually being ignored. Grimshaw was really the only one who gave snippy comments. Bessie and Annabelle kept their politeness. Hosea and Dutch never gave opinions, with or without Mary's presence. Were smart to stay out of it just like John was.

John just found Mary boring. But he also found himself boring. 

He was fifteen and staring at her plainly as she sat awkwardly across the campfire. Arthur had gone off to do something, didn’t hear what. Everyone else was off doing things too. So, John sat there stuffing peas into his mouth. A little more carefully than he usually would- Mary was a lady afterall. The boy was half feral, even still, but hell, first thing Dutch ever nailed into his head was manners around a woman.

“So,” The girl start carefully. No matter the times they’ve been around each other, this was probably the first time they’d been alone. “How have you been, John?”

John took his time to answer. Scraping his peas up and stuffing some in his mouth. She was waiting for him. John wondered if he should finish his peas first or not. It'd be annoying to keep stopping to talk. Plus, he was hungry. He decided to eat the peas for a little bit more time. Unfortunately, she clearly looked awkward at the boy’s silence. Her head dipping down and then away. She gave up easily on him. He wasn’t even sure what he should say now. Guess the truth.

He swallowed. Polite.

Then he spoke. “Uhm, I’m fine, miss.”

Her attention was pulled back to him, shocked that he actually answered. She mumbled a soft “That's good to hear.”

There was some stretch of silence.

Then he remembered he should probably return the question. “And you?” 

“Just fine.” 

“That’s good.” He ate the last two bites of his food, a little more hurried. Scraped the last of it then tossed the can into the fire. 

John didn’t understand how Arthur would be interested in such a bland lady.

“How old are you?” She asked next.

It kind of caught him off guard. A sensitive question. He took his time to answer that too. “Enough.” 

She didn’t seem to be properly phased by his rudeness. “I have a younger brother- I believe he’s probably just a little under the same age as you.” 

“I didn’t tell you my age.” 

“He’s a little under ‘Enough.’” And her smile intended it to be a joke. John didn’t laugh.

“Okay.” 

She kept that smile, probably out of awkwardness. Her hands were in her lap, thumb pressing over her knuckles in a subtle anxious fashion. John didn’t know why she had brought up her brother. It annoyed him.

“I think if you met, you’d be friends. Arthur likes him. He’s real kind.” It was a nice gesture. 

Now it  really annoyed him.

“Well, I ain’t too kind, Miss.”

His push was ignored. “He started teaching him how to ride a proper horse. Jamie has always been a poor rider.” 

John started to pluck at the grass that sat at his feet. The tougher blades fought at his callouses. He plucked hard at the weeds, fighting his own stubbornness to remove them from the ground. Tried to ignore how those words, as nice as they were, sort of itched anger at him.

“Ain’t that nice of him. When will you invite your kid brother over?” A jab.

“My father doesn’t let him out much- But we could certainly always invite you.” 

“Just me?" He asked.

"Yes, if you'd like to." She smiled careful.

He thought for second, shifted in his seat. "With no Arthur Morgan?" 

"Oh- Of course Arthur would be there."

There was some hesitation then, "I wouldn't be a very good guest." His tone flat. Remember to be kind to the lady, John. Hold your tongue. 

“It’ll be fine. Really, my brother is sweet.” 

“Then I reckon I’d ruin him, wouldn’t I.” He replied. “With how I am.” Reflecting information he’s soaked in. It didn’t mean to escape him.

She frowned but didn’t look offended. “You’re still a boy. I doubt you meet many your age, is all. Maybe you’ll find that this life isn’t really for you either.” 

He dug really hard at the ground. “This life ain’t for nobody, Miss. Just didn’t get lucky enough to be born like you.”

She still kept calm. The fire crackled. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just offering to have you meet my brother.” 

“Well I don’t want to meet your damn brother. Doubt he’s worth knowing-If he’s half as uppity as you at least.” 

When she looked up behind him, he should’ve froze. The collar of his jacket plucked and lifted him from the ground and John yelled out in surprise. He knew exactly who it was and it filled him with spite.

“ The hell is wrong with you!?” Arthur barked at him as he forced John to his feet and shoved him back. It was the first word he’s gotten from Arthur the entire time Mary has been in camp. His eyes narrowed and form large. Overwhelming.

Even as John stumbled and fell on his ass he looked at the man stubborn. Nosed scrunched in a mean way. Didn’t say a thing back.

“Go on! Get out of here, you little shit!” Arthur motioned him off. 

John didn’t immediately. Looked to Mary who had risen to her feet. She had called to Arthur to get him to calm down. Arthur didn’t.

With his distraction, Arthur caught him by surprise when he kicked the dirt at John. The boy forced to flinch away and growled like he was some mangy dog. Arthur probably saw him as such. 

He didn’t care though. There was a rush of something in his chest- John took it as anger. He grabbed a fistful of dirt in his own hand and scrambled to his feet and threw it at Arthur. 

Got the man to flinch and shield himself from the dirt. The noise Arthur made in his anger was actually sort of terrifying. John took a step back and went to run but the older boy grabbed his jacket before he could. His stomach sank and braced himself. 

Raised a fist.

“ Arthur!” The words said of a very angry Mary Gillis.

It got Arthur to stop. John kept his breath in his lungs. 

“Yer damn lucky, Marston. Don’t you talk like that to her again.” 

John exhaled slowly, trying to act like he wasn’t afraid. That he was tough and could take a beating from Arthur. Not scared of him. And truly, he really wasn’t. Only a little bit.

At their closeness he noticed Arthur’s face was clean. He always cleaned up well when Mary was here. It was kind of funny to him seeing Arthur care.

“Do I make myself clear.” Arthur asked flatly.

John didn’t nod nor shake his head. Not a word left his mouth.

“I said-“ The fist raised again and this time John didn’t flinch because-

“Arthur Morgan!” The girl from the campfire yelled again. John gave him a cocky smile as Arthur was forced to let go.

“Have a good night, Miss. I apologize for bein’ rude.” He dusted himself off and made his exit. He had won. And it was satisfying seeing Arthur so worked up about it. 

He even got to hear Mary's nice: "He's just a kid, Arthur. Be easier on him. He doesn't know any better."  And he heard Arthur reluctantly agree to her.

John would take Arthur's aggression over him babying him ten times over. John decided suddenly he really didn't like Mary Gillis.

As years went, it didn't entirely get better. His fight for his own maturity combating Arthur's constant gripes. His suggestions of robberies or ideas for jobs shot down half the time unless he went to Dutch first. And that only made it worse. 

“You know, one day you’re gonna stop hiding behind Dutch.” He had told him. “You’re grown now.” He was seventeen. John had considered himself grown since the day his daddy died. Arthur considered him grown only because he started to look it.

Sure, his last job that he suggested only got the fifteen dollars total. But that was fifteen dollars! It was better to find bad jobs than it was to be doing no jobs, right? No. Apparently not. Even when his jobs came up competent and thoroughly thought out there was always something Arthur had to say. Never could keep his mouth shut. It did a pretty good job on forcing John to heighten his expectations for himself. Trying to always please him.

It wasn't always bad. There were a few times where it was actually comfortable being around Arthur. Usually was when he invited himself to come with Arthur on stupid errands. Where they didn't talk. Just rode next to each other and maybe interact with the townsfolk. No fighting. Both on the same side for an honest common goal. 

 John remembered whenever it got brought up, for any reason, Mary would have a complaint at John's age. Would complain about John's future. Never with him around neither. Just discussing things. Like he couldn't hear them talking a tent away. That he was still young enough to pursue a different future- That Arthur should be looking out for him. Would bring up her brother again. Would bring up all types of stuff. It never really went anywhere. And while Arthur was a mean, awful man. He was never mean nor awful to her.

They ended up breaking up later that year.

It left Arthur a sad, pathetic drunk.

The saloons has long since kicked him out. He was normally a happy drunk, a rancorous sort but generally cheerful. Sometimes sad. Most of the time goofy. That hardened shell melting off. 

Since Mary left him he’s been like this for weeks. Never at camp. Off on his own for excuses upon excuses. John began to truly worry if the man was going to drink himself to death or let himself get eaten by a wild bear. Or get eaten by a wild bear while drinking himself to death. Bet it'd get the bear drunk.

Tonight he found him on a fence of a farm they didn’t know. 

“Hey! Just what are you doin’, Morgan?” 

Gargled indistinct noises then laughing was his response. 

John got off his horse and went to him. The fence was covered with types of greenery and Arthur sank into it. A bottle in hand and he shook it to see how much was left. Then he took a drink. 

John quickened to clear the distance and reached down to grab the bottle from his hands. Should’ve been harder to do.

“ Hey!” Arthur yelled out.

John tipped the bottle back and finished it off. Wasn’t even much, but just catching Arthur like this he decided he needed it more than Arthur did. He chucked the bottle into the field. 

“Arthur Morgan, you’re a sad son of a bitch.” John said flat. “How long are you going to feel sorry for yourself?” 

“Ferever.” Arthur slurred. “Jus’ leave me alone. Stars’r keepin’ me all th’ comp’ny I need.” 

John hooked his thumbs over his belt and slacked his shoulders to look down at that sad state of a man. It was on the surface, of course, sad. Pathetic. Annoying. But John truly felt anger. It was his easiest emotion to cling to. It was Arthur’s too. Something in them burning and finding unfairness in such a cruel world. Arthur got reminded of it. John hated seeing it. John hated seeing Arthur get reminded of it.

“We’re leaving this town soon. Dutch wanted me to make sure you knew.” 

“Mm.” 

There was some silence. Then Arthur started humming a sad song to himself. John watched for awhile to just go over and plop himself next to Arthur Morgan. Took his hat off and set it next to him and looked up at the stars.

“The stars been makin’ good conversation?” He asked. Their bright sparkles stretched the sky. Arthur shrugged. John let the silence sit. He reached into his pack and found some rum Bill had given him yesterday. 

He wasn’t so sure about that guy yet, he didn’t seem like somebody worth keeping around, but hey. He’ll let himself be bribed. 

He welcomed the burn of alcohol- Something he actually really didn’t like and quickly forced himself to pretend to. Pretending ended up making him find out how to enjoy it.

So he nursed his own bottle sitting next to Arthur. Sitting in silence for awhile as he tried to catch up a bit. 

John hummed out a little bit more of a chipper tune. He didn’t really know all the words to it but he hummed it. 

Arthur hummed it with him. 

They hummed it together a little louder.

And when the hum hit the chorus they sloppily mumbled out the start of what they knew and more confidently sang the part they really knew.

“That sweet little gal- The gal I left behind me. Nuhnuhhnhunuh.” 

“Nuhnunh the gal I left-“ 

“-Nh The wind did blow, the RAIN did flow.” 

“The hail did fall and BLIND ME!” They snickered together and kept humming.

John had found himself tipsy, yet his tipsy compared to Arthur right now made him feel sober.

They sat there and talked casually. John mostly got stupid answers and when he gave him sassy replies Arthur was too drunk to ever get mad at him. Every joke good natured and fun. Whenever there was a stretch of silence though he knew Arthur was hurting.

“Why’d you even like her?” John said suddenly while Arthur started humming again. The question got him to stop though.

“Huh?” 

“She wasn’t good for you.” 

There was a stretch of silence as Arthur clearly thought it over.

“‘Nm. Better than I e’ver deserved.” He finally replied. 

He didn’t find that to be true. Despite everything, John always thought Arthur needed someone different. Less... Less like her.

He sat up a bit and looked to him. The moon highlighted them, blue shadows etched the contours of Arthur’s face. John found out that he really liked it. Always noticed it. The night was always his favorite when it came to looking at Arthur Morgan. He was allowed to look wherever the hell he wanted and more often than not it was at him. Wouldn't get in trouble for it like he did during the day. To just value his face- In a way that was.. Hell, most of the time intending to be platonic. There were no other ways to take it as...

John had found out, right now, he had been really jealous of Mary Gillis.

“Maybe. But that still don’t mean she was good for you.” The words tumbled out of his lips as he was staring blankly at the older man.

Arthur hummed once more but this time it wasn’t a tune. Just long and upset. 

John wasn’t too great at talking. Never was. He wanted to talk right now. About all sorts of things. He wanted to figure how to tell Arthur that he was with him. That even despite everything he’s been here. And while that’s either as a brother or a friend it didn’t matter. Even when Arthur didn’t like him. Even when he didn’t like Arthur.

“M sorry.” Arthur said.

It caught John completely off guard, Snapped John from his thoughts.

“For what?” He actually huffed a laugh at a thing like that. Arthur Morgan apologizing.

“For bein’ how I am.” 

John swallowed. The hurt in Arthur’s voice so thick, even as slurred with drunk he was, it was raw. 

“I accept your apology. But you didn’t gotta.” 

Arthur shrugged. “I always been mean to you.” 

“You’re a mean man.” 

He nodded. “I know. N’ yer just a kid.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

They went quiet again. 

This didn’t happen too often. Where they were together in their own space. Without animosity. Without fighting or tension. Arthur’s definitely mellowed out in the last two years, he’s been able to enjoy this sort of situation. John feared it would start up again now that Mary was gone.

John didn’t want it to.

Arthur Morgan sat next to him here. Sad. Drunk. Moonlight highlighting everything John had come to like about him. His eyes shut and his face relaxed. The dirt on his face clean from crying, he guessed. He would have pointed it out in any other circumstance, but he’s never seen Arthur so vulnerable.

“Arthur.” He said. 

Silence. 

“Arthur Morgan.” He said again.

Silence. Asleep.

Something sat in John’s stomach. A sudden rush of impulse. An opportunity sitting in him. His gentle inebriation just enough to break his control and shifted so he was facing the man.

The stress of the sun and freckles just barely visible on Arthur’s face. His scruff at a charming length. He found his gaze at his lips, wondered what it’d really be like to.. John’s heart picked up a bit just at the thought. Feeling everything except shame.

He leaned closer to him. Cautious movement so he wouldn't wake him. With just a careful bend he kissed him there. Just to see. It wouldn’t hurt. Arthur wouldn’t know-

John tensed up when he felt Arthur grab ahold of him.

Oh fuck.

He swallowed his damn tongue he was pretty sure. Heart was in his stomach. John immediately tried to pull away- Run off- Hope to god Arthur wouldn’t—

Arthur pulled John down to kiss him again. Got him to grunt in surprise. Blinking into the kiss. It broke. When John searched Arthur’s expression his eyes were still closed. Dread filled him.

Stupid idiot, Marston. 

And when he should have really then pulled away he decided to give into his impulse again. Kiss him one more time with his weight a little leaned in. His head tilted to nuzzle against his mouth. Arthur kissed back. It was the closest thing he knew he’d ever get to him, he reasoned. To having him his. His lips were chapped and he could definitely taste the alcohol but he was warm.

With Arthur’s arms holding him loosely like they were. An embrace that John wanted to keep.

Fuck you, Mary Gillis. 

But thank you, Mary Gillis, for giving him this opportunity. As stolen as it was.

“Don’t.. nn’.. go…” He heard Arthur mumble. It wasn't for John.

His words made him feel an ache in his chest. Cheeks burning and John didn’t want to pull away but he did. When Arthur grabbed for him to keep him to stay and it was appetizing as all hell to. To curl into him. Comfort him.

John abstained.

He suddenly felt awful. He touched his lips for a moment, swallowing the information of just what it felt like. That he did indeed just do that. There was something terribly wrong in him. 

John fell back on his heel and kicked himself away from Arthur and forced himself to stand up. Arthur was still relaxed where he was pressed against the fence. Eyes still closed. Unknowing of John’s idiocy. 

John couldn’t stand himself. Disgusting. Stupid. He grabbed his hat then went to his horse, patted him, and mounted up. He needed to go for a ride. 

Thank god he knew Arthur wouldn’t remember.

Three weeks passed and John spent all of it ignoring Arthur to the best of his ability. Every time he looked at him he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and embarrassment. He was right when he knew Arthur wouldn’t remember. And thank fuck for that.

It was all supposed to be normal.

John was absolutely terrible at pretending to be normal.

“ What is your problem, Marston.” The man said suddenly.

They were riding into town together and John had been quiet the entire ride. The wagon bumped over a rock and John fixed himself in his seat.

“Ain’t nothin’.” 

Arthur scoffed. “Ah, horse shit. It’s something. It’s always somethin’.” 

He scrunched his nose. “Okay?” Because it really wasn’t his business. Irritation itched at his arms and kept his gaze away.

“Oh, lemme guess. It’s because now with the new people in camp, you miss bein’ the full cheese.” 

As if it wasn’t immediately Arthur who was the most sensitive about shifts in dynamic.

John couldn’t give a rats ass.

“To no longer be the camp idiot must be pretty tough on you, huh.” Arthur continued.

John stood silent.

“Don’t worry, John. Even with you thinkin’ you’re such a grown man, I know you’ll always be Dutch’s little golden boy.” 

John exhaled. “Would you let up?” 

“Just makin’ observations.” 

“It’d be real smart to observate something else.” 

“You’re right. There ain’t much to look at anyhow- Just tired of this mood you got going on.” 

His mood?

HIS? MOOD?

John gritted his teeth, “Says the one wallowing for himself ‘cause his woman left’em.” It was under his breath. He had tried to keep it back. Mostly. Kinda. 

It did it’s job in pissing Arthur off. “Watch it."

“Or is all that cryin’ I hear from your tent must be comin’ from a wild animal.” That was low. Even for him.

He didn't get a reply. And that alone held it's own weight. Daggers into John's. Should’ve scared him but John stood solid.

Another rock jostled them and it forced their eye contact to break. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Awkward silence. Tense.

When they finally got there John bee lined for the saloon and Arthur caught his collar. God, he hated it when he did that. He immediately turned on his heel and shoved Arthur’s grip on him off.

The look he got from Arthur sunk his chest. The anger in his eyes. That warning look. He remembered what he looked like so relaxed- The sorrow and anger drained into something tired and sleepy. He's been pushing too many buttons.

John remembered the amount of times he poked and prodded just to see this expression whenever he couldn’t figure out how to get him to look soft. He doesn't remember the last time Arthur's been soft.

“Where are you going?” His voice raw.

“You don’t need two people to load up supplies, do you?”

Arthur scoffed. "You got me towin' you all the way here just so you could ran off?"

He shrugged. "A grown man can do what he pleases, can't he."

Arthur smacked him across the head, hard enough to empty the thoughts in there for a second. Treating him like a boy. It wasn’t because of his words. It was for everything recently. He knew that. 

John clenched his teeth as he caught his balance.

They were right back to where they were. John didn’t know how his face looked, but for the first time he thought he saw Arthur look regretful for an action. John swallowed something- His emotions. Disappointment. He turned and he left. Arthur didn’t call after him. 

The bartender poured whisky without a comment. He learned this was his favorite kind of bartender. 

John was more than tipsy when Arthur found him there, and with the shadows pouring over the bar marked it dusk. They didn’t speak. Arthur ordered a whiskey.

Some man came up behind them and started talking to them. It really wasn’t the time. John tapped at the bartop, trying desperately not to take his anger out on this poor man. 

There was a short lull in conversation between everyone, Arthur decided to finally try talking. "You know, I-" Interrupted.

“And I heard just west of here there’s a man who sells good oils for-“ 

John watched as Arthur had enough and turned to the stranger. “All the locals in this town annoyin’ or is it just you?” 

The stranger seemed stunned, “Huh? Wh-I was just trying to be-“ 

“Hell, stick around. Maybe six beers in and I’ll actually find you tolerable. Now, how about you go on.”

"I was just lettin' you know that-" 

"Get outta here!" 

That had the stranger running and John watched him go. Took a drink from his beer. Looked to Arthur Morgan. Saw him ask for another shot. 

“Think there were eight ways to say that nicer than that.”

The man grunted. “None of ‘em half as effective.”

John finished his beer. 

It was night and they were drunk and they found each other fine in their company again. The alcohol working as an apology between them.

John didn’t want Arthur to go back to it. To that tired animosity. It seemed that to be the case and John felt a sort of appreciation for that twenty seconds he got weeks back with him. Not caring if it were stolen. John was always a pretty good thief. 

They were pretty sloshed when they got booted from the bar. Rowdy and friendly with each other. Arthur dipped in and out in sorrow like he had been, but John was able to keep cheering him back up. 

Taking the supplies back would have to wait until tomorrow because Arthur and John found themselves out in a field. Kansas grass was pleasantly soft when they fell into it. Arthur was good at finding fields. Or maybe Kansas was just full of them.

“Sorry- Fer, fer hittin’ you.” Arthur drawled out.

“Stop apologizin’ when yer drunk.” John said back.

They dipped into silence. John’s weight felt heavy and he couldn’t stop moving. Sat up a bit. Arthur took a swig of the bottle of whiskey in his hand and John reached over and grabbed for it. Maybe it was an excuse to get into Arthur’s space. 

Arthur didn’t let go, met eye contact for just a moment, then John pulled it away and took a drink.

“I don’t want to go back to you hatin’ me.” John admitted finally. 

“Ah, I don’t.” 

“You do. You hate me- Always hated me. N’ I don’t blame you- I don’t.. I’ve never.. I just.. I thought we was finally over it.” 

Arthur exhaled. “I don’ hate you, John. I don’t.” 

John’s inebriation gave him courage and he set the bottle away. Grabbed onto Arthur. Felt his own heart pick up in his chest because god damn it he wanted to give in. 

“You ain’t ever gonna like me like I like you.” 

“ What?” There was genuine confusion in his voice.

“I always- I always been here. N’ I wanna be. I wanna be with’chu. Yer mean. So god damn mean. N’ I don’t care.” His breath felt heavy, but it might’ve been the alcohol.

Arthur held onto John, taking his weight. “Yer drunk.” 

“I am.” He said back, a little bit of a laugh after. “But I ain’t lyin’. Mary ain’t here. Mary ain’t comin’ back. But I’m here.” It was a terrible argument.

A sore spot. “You been waitin’ fer this? You’re a stupid kid.” 

“ I ain’t a kid.” John growled out. His grip on Arthur tightened. The man carrying both their weight.

“Uhuh. And yer actin’ like one.” Arthur grinned. His gaze steady. “A spoiled one too.” 

John looked Arthur’s mouth then back to his eyes. “And yer actin’ like a foolish old man.” 

“That you appar’ntly want.” It was said with a laugh. Clearly didn’t believe him. 

So John kissed him. While Arthur was conscious. Incredibly inebriated, but conscious. Both of them conscious. John broke it immediately.

He was stunned first, blinked a couple times. “Oh Christ, yer serious.” He mumbled. 

John’s face burned. Didn’t know what to say after. So he tried kissing him again but Arthur stopped him.

“Nmn, nno. God, yer a real idiot.”

John just laughed and nodded. “I am. Mhm. Humor me. Just fer tonight. We’re drunk- It won’t count.”

"Yer a kid!" Arthur laughed out.

John shook his head. "It don't matter- It's fine. I promise."  

Arthur was drunk as all hell but he still had some sense. Shaking his head. "Oh, it matters, Johnny. You drunk little shit."

Anger. "You don' got 'er here no more. It can be me. It can be me now." He insisted and tugged at Arthur's clothes and tried unbuttoning. Damn his poor coordination. 

Arthur sighed. Stopped John's stupid hands to  grab him and pull him close. It was heavy, it was drunk, but it was an embrace. John grunted, trying to fight it first, then leaned into it once he realized it. It was strong first then eased all at once. And with some adjustment John curled into him, fixing so he could get the most comfort out of a hug. Arthur petted him. Hushed him. Giving him small words of comfort.

It calmed John down from his desperation. Just the petting. Easing him. John had the sudden urge to cry. He buried himself into Arthur’s neck. His grip finally fully reciprocating and his breathing felt uneven. The comfort felt so foreign. Especially from Arthur, which the closest thing he ever got from him was a pat on the back. What a tough outlaw he felt like, swallowing down tears as he was comforted by a man who he always felt despised him. Made him feel like a kid. Like a real kid. Not one that John ever got to be.

He started to shake, breathing in ragged breaths then exhaling it. Trying not to cry. Trying. He was a man, god damn it. Only two months from it being official in the eyes of the law. His tears had dried up when he was 9.

“Shh, it’ll… It’ll be alright. Yer… Yer gonna be all right.” Arthur mumbled to him.

Oh no.

"Yer okay, John." 

The tightness in his throat felt like he was choking on something. Wheezing out a short cry. Brought it in all at once just to sob again. 

Arthur just comforted him and pet through his hair. Showed him kindness, drunk or not, that he's never showed him before.

Then it was morning.

John was on his back in a strange field with the sun beaming down on him. Feeling horrible. Feeling nauseous. 

He didn’t know how he got here. 

He remembers Arthur bullying that poor man. Leaving the bar. Then… Then what?

John decided to let himself get further roasted by the sun.

Arthur was nowhere to be seen. 

After that night though, Arthur treated him just slightly different. It wasn't a bad thing. No. Just.. Different.

Inviting him places. Still wasn't particularly nice to him, but maybe a little more forgiving. His sadness still very there. His anger still there as well, but less directed at him. More on honest people. Doing more dangerous jobs. Even saw Dutch yell at him a couple times for his actions. No matter their relationship, that was always a terrible thing to witness.

As years passed Arthur's scab from Mary had developed oddly, and maybe that's what got him to change so much. So much so that John actually got to believing that Arthur sort of liked him. Or at least tolerated him better. Or perhaps it was with the comparison of having so many new people in camp. They added three more in the last year.

Tonight Dutch appointed him and Arthur to scout out the area. Hosea knew the area somewhat, but Utah wasn't a state they've been to often. Think they've only passed through once and that was northern. There were three towns to note. The two of them joked on planning to start a space in the newspaper for their bar reviews. 

"When was the last time you an' me did something like this?" John said softly as he dug through his satchel looking for a cigarette. Lit it. 

Arthur scratched his beard and shrugged. "Guessin' year back. That storm we got caught in was bad. You near grabbed a bad case a frost bite." He was right. John frowned at the memory. 

John analyzed the cigarette in his fingers, watching it burn. Quiet settled over them. Then a couple gunshots overhead that got them struggling to their feet and cigarette dropped to favor his gun. The horses neighed in worry. The farm they had decided to hang out on seemed to have spotted them. The owner shouted from their porch. Something. John narrowed his eyes and tried to hear what he was yelling about but it was practically gibberish. Then there were two more gunshots. They should go.

"We ain't even on your land!!" He heard Arthur yell out at him. 

There was more indecipherable yelling in reply. 

"I oughta torch your fields. Then you'll really have somethin' to shoot me for, you fuckin' bastard." He heard him grumble and mounted up on his horse. An example of Arthur's anger.

"It ain't worth it." John tried to reason, because he knew Arthur was serious. He mounted on his own horse and calmed his boy enough to start off back onto the clear road. The moon bright enough to light their way.

"I know, John." Was what he got back and John followed Arthur's lead. "Should be somewhere better off this way maybe. 'Less every rancher here is a son of bitch." 

John shrugged. "Could be the truth with how the people have been so far. Not exactly friendly type. But neither are we." 

That got a laugh from Arthur. The sound pleasant to hear. They rode hard until Arthur slowed down to the outskirts of a different farm. This one a lot more rural. Not a house in sight. The road hardly used. Just them together to set themselves up. 

"What's with us an fields?" John asked aloud. 

"How you mean?" Arthur fixed his horse's saddle and grabbed a bottle of rum from her. 

"We tend to find ourselves here."

Arthur looked back at him. "Well, I reckon there's a lot of fields." Like John was stupid. 

John offered him a shrug and led his horse further to where he wanted him. They sat down together in solitude and sharing that bottle of rum. Not to get drunk, but to shed off a layer of that outlaw ego that hung on them all the time. 

With all their talking, Arthur didn't even set up camp. John didn't either, to be fair. It was warm and John didn't mind the stars. The moon bright enough for them. The constellations had names, he found out. There were a whole bunch of them. Knew there were people who researched it all, had maps of places they'd never be able to visit. They had all these crazy visuals that John always wished he could see. He just saw stars. Didn't know how one looked like a dragon, or a lion. 

When John looked back over to Arthur he found the man was a lot closer than he remembered. John sat up a bit more, his eyes stuck on Arthur's. The man took a swig of the rum and sat it in John's hands. He carefully brought it to his lips and took a drink. 

"You got somethin' to say, Morgan?" 

"N'aw."

He didn't seem to. For some reason John got a vibe from him. He tried to set it with the warmth in his stomach, but it didn't feel like that. He looked to the bottle again and took a harder swig. The air seemed like there was something unspoken. An itch for something buried. Felt like a conversation John didn't want to have.

John offered the bottle back to him and Arthur took it but he also took John's face in his hand to kiss him. It was short. Enough to stun him stupid. 

That Arthur Morgan kissed him. His cheeks burned and his heart lept in his chest. He didn't know what caused that- Didn't care. He grabbed Arthur before he could do that thing- Be bashful. Or humiliated. Kissed him again. The bottle of rum was ditched in the grass in favor of each other. John thought so badly that he was done pining over Arthur. That it was finally getting buried. He was wrong. That grave was fresh and the dirt loose. The thrill in his heart bursting like an undead hand through the holy ground.

He wasn't offered an explanation. A suggestion of it being a quick fuck or not. Or if this was his way of communicating feelings. Anything. Nothing. John didn't really care. He wasn't a stupid, idiot kid this time. Well, truly. Mostly. Like Arthur said once, he'd always be the little golden boy apparently. John leaned into Arthur hard enough to get them to fall into the ground. Arthur's hands on him and feeling him up. John's holding up his weight and the other tightened on Arthur's collar. 

They made out for seemingly an hour. Bits of clothing slowly getting removed with hands that searched for more. There were plenty of times where the kiss broke long enough for them to speak. Plenty of times to give each other answers. Never did. Maybe just some quick jokes that were forgettable, but any curiosity was forced to be sated by kisses. 

His suspenders were unclipped and Arthur helped him undo his union suit. The man pushing John down on the ground and moving over him instead. John's hands doing the work of undoing Arthur's buttons. He helped himself from getting out of his more complicated clothing. Stayed a lot more clothed than John did. Pants, boots, shirt. John convinced him to ditch the shirt. They kissed a lot more, but Arthur turned his attention on John's body.

The moon wasn’t entirely great light, but it was all they had. He got to see Arthur’s expression as he touched him. He swallowed thickly as he was completely open for him. To be under Arthur's focus. He never looked at himself in the mirror, but he hoped what he had to offer was something Arthur would like. It was a man's body. His face felt like it was burning as Arthur answered that silent question as dragged his hand over John’s heavy rising chest. Kissed at his chest. At his stomach. Slow and appreciative. Like John was pretty.

Kept quiet. John dared to touch himself as Arthur shifted over and grabbed his satchel. A throw of excitement shuddered through him with his anxiety. This had escalated quickly. He let his body slump against the ground and shut his eyes for a second to collect himself. Breathe. 

Arthur’s hands rubbed over his thighs and forced John’s legs apart more. He fluttered his eyes back open to see Arthur’s concentration low on him. Petting his thighs. Hips. That tin of- of something. Hair pomade he thinks? Arthur knew what he was doing. John did not. 

To tell you the truth, John didn’t even properly know how sex with a man worked. He was never told, he never asked. He knew it involved fucking someone in the ass, but the details were blurry. This was entirely new to him. At least Arthur seemed competent. Taking that substance and pressing it up against his entrance. 

“Okay.” John found himself saying aloud as he sat up on his elbows. 

“Okay?” Arthur immediately asked back.

He didn’t know what to say- The statement wasn’t for Arthur. So he just nodded.

“Okay.” Arthur reinstated.

Pushed his slicked fingers into John slowly. And okay. Okay . 

John gritted his teeth- Not because it hurt, but for the absolute newness . His body was pretty sure nothing was supposed to go up there. 

“Calm down.” And earned him a small smack on his outer thigh. Got him to give a small gasp. 

"Uhuh." He shifted and tried to do that. To calm down. 

“Relax.” Arthur ordered next. “You’re tight.” And he felt Arthur make a point of it by fixing his fingers deeper. 

“Ah.” That was supposed to be a start of a word. “Nngh.. “ That was supposed to be one too. “Morgan.” He gave up.

Arthur hushed him. “Just calm down, Marston. Lay down.”

And he did. The ground welcoming him back. He gripped at it. Breathed. Calmed himself. It was okay. It was Arthur. He knew what he was doing. He always did. He’s wanted this for years- Maybe not this exact situation with Arthur taking him in the grass in Utah, but something like it. 

Arthur pressed his fingers deeper and adopted a massaging motion, not entirely pulling out, just like he was rubbing his insides. It again, felt incredibly different. And made him tense up and grab at the ground. 

“I said calm down, Marston.” His voice firmer. 

Didn’t particularly help. Tightened up more actually, feeling unsure of how to calm more than he was. He felt like he was fucking this all up.

Arthur didn’t stop the movements inside him, but his off hand rubbed at John’s side. “Easy. Easy, now.” And he hushed him. “Relax, John.” His voice became a little forgiving. Purring it under his breath. That.. was a lot easier to obey to. His shoulders slacked and he nodded. 

“Good boy.” And the small compliment got him exhale a heavy breath. The fingers inside him managed deeper, and if not deeper, a little harder. Felt discomfort but not painful. He was fine.

It even felt a little good. Sometimes. Mostly uncomfortable. John moved his hand down and jerked himself off. Helped him enjoy a little bit more.

It was a good while of doing that when Arthur pulled his fingers out of him and John exhaled. Realized something: He had kinda liked that. Guess that’s why girls like it? John’s knowledge of sex was very minute despite being twenty. Not that he didn’t have opportunities to learn-Dutch would no doubtedly enjoy teaching John all about the interworkings of a woman and the importance of sex- He just really didn’t want to hear that. It wasn’t that complicated.

It really wasn’t.

So why was he feeling so overwhelmed right now underneath Arthur Morgan? He was shaking. He didn’t shake when he was with a woman. The girl hadn’t either. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Of course he’d find that out when he’s having sex with Arthur, of all people.

He fixed their position a little bit and John let go of his cock. He saw Arthur use a lot more of that pomade. The man parted John’s legs in a way that got John to hook them around his body. Felt Arthur’s cock up against his ass.

He suddenly wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. Anxiety sunk in his stomach. 

Arthur didn’t push in yet, instead, fixed their position again. Dragged John a little closer. Kissed him once then kept them close like that. Arthur just barely over him. Their bodies touching. John had his hands on Arthur’s abdomen.

Then Arthur pushed in. John immediately tensed his grip on him and tried pushing him away. Arthur didn’t let him and it forced John to suck in a breath. 

“Breathe.” It was another firm order. 

John let go of that breath and took in another one, a little slower. His eyes were shut tight and he tried to relax. Tried to make sure Arthur wouldn’t scold him for anything. That he was doing this okay. Arthur didn’t push it in far. John felt like it was. The girth was different than his fucking fingers. 

Breathe .

He did breathe. He even held in breaths to correct anything panicked. 

Arthur rolled his hips to give a shallow thrust, sliding just a bit farther in then to where he had originally had himself. John keened. If the fingers were uncomfortable, this was more so. 

“Hell, you’re tight, John.” He heard Arthur huff against his neck. It seemed pleased. It was ragged. It got another thrust into him. John gripped harder then eased. This was fine. He was fine. His hands still gripped on him- Urging Arthur to stop whenever he'd push in and it'd hurt, but every time ignored.

Then Arthur kept doing that. A small shallow rhythm. The pain was small, and overall just uncomfortable. But there was this… Satisfying feeling- Of being filled. Or something. He liked it. It was a weird sensation to like, but he did. Didn’t want Arthur to stop anymore. And the man wouldn’t.

Just kept rolling slowly into him in an easy pace. Then he pushed in just a bit further. It was further than his fingers managed and it tensed him up and he huffed. Heard Arthur grunt and he knew it caused him to roll into him again like that. Taking advantage of John’s resistance. It got a small groan out of him. His toes curling a little. If Arthur wasn’t there over his body he would have arched. 

It only got worse as Arthur stopped being so delicate with him- Or was this normal? John didn’t know. It scared him- Actually. Not knowing. The anxiety annoyingly distracting as Arthur fucked him. John kept quiet. 

He felt Arthur’s off hand grab his ass and fix his position and hit inside John in a new way. Made him shudder- That odd stuffing sensation sparked into something. He didn’t know- He had no idea- But whatever it was made his body buzz. He wanted it again, felt his hips start to roll a little uneven to meet him. To get him a little deeper- To have him bottom in. 

When he did, he couldn’t keep a growl in. He buried his face into Arthur’s neck and grabbed at his back. Holding on for dear life as Arthur went harder on him. It was overwhelming. 

It was that for awhile. Sometimes rubbing against a place that got him shaking then would stop and fuck him a different way. 

Arthur tried to shift positions but John tried dragging him back down. He liked the way he felt boxed in by him. Safe.

“No.” John croaked. “Don’t.” 

Arthur shifted, stilled inside John as he pulled himself from John’s grasp. Ignored his complaint.

Marston went to grab for him again but Arthur set a strong hand on his shoulders and shoved him down. 

John’s hands clutched at Arthur’s chest. The man shifting to fix his posture. Didn’t actually move too much away from John like the man feared him to. Just moved to get a better angle. John could see his face more. Arthur pulled John’s leg up and forced a short grunt from him as he started up his pace again. 

He quickly got over the anxiety. Fully distracted now. Which, he now felt kind of stupid he had such a panic. He got to see a little more of Arthur like this. The sweat reflecting the moonlight. The look of concentration on his face. Made him start to feel useless, sinking into the ground. Arthur’s cock finding a pleasant rhythm in him. 

John took his own cock in his hand and jerked himself off, now that their bodies had a little more space between them. That helped considerably. Dragged him so much closer to an orgasm and Arthur just had to give it to him a different way, didn’t he️. John gave a low gravelly moan. Met eye contact, half feverish and unfocused. 

But it was Arthur Morgan. Oh God, John for some reason just remembered that. How exactly could he forget when he had the man’s cock up his ass- But okay, it was a realization that it was truly him. The man he’s been crushing on since he was a kid. The man who’s been nothing but wretched to him. Yet, so god damn charming. John’s focus went to Arthur’s body, what he could see. His muscles defined in moonlight. Toned. Smooth. Made him keen. Wanted to shout his name. Tell him everything. Curse him. Beg for him.

He didn’t do any of that. Just stuck silent, only panting heavy, or at most low grunts. 

Arthur pulled farther away and John felt another rush of anxiety. Reached for him with his offhand and Arthur pushed it away. John was forced to give up because the way Arthur put his weight into his thrusts knocked any thoughts out of his head. His body arched and Arthur pushed him back down. It was hard and it was fast and John couldn’t describe where it felt it reach. Struck him with pleasure that ran up his body and he jerked himself off faster. Wanted to cum to that feeling. Felt himself almost there. Any pain only an afterthought now with just the way it was hitting. 

John came suddenly, knocked the wind right out of him as he felt it overwhelm his senses. Growled out between his teeth and Arthur groaned above him. His body tensed up and the man again found a delight in taking advantage of it. Still hitting hard and still hitting fast. Fucked him through his orgasm as John stroked himself to completion. His sticky cum covering his lower abdomen. 

He wanted to be done now.

“Arthur-“ His voice cracked. “Arthur- Nn. Stop- Please.” 

“Shut up, John.” Was what he got. It wasn’t aggressive. But he was still a bastard.

He got dragged a little, his hands pressing at Arthur’s chest to try and push. It was ignored. His main hand grabbed and forced to the ground and he arched over him. Arthur’s body keeping him still again- You know, that position he loved earlier. John growled lowly and clung to him. His hand holding tight on Arthur’s. His senses so overwhelmed and tight as Arthur continued to fuck him. Using him. It felt like forever, stuck there and gasping. At the will of Arthur’s stamina. His body felt raw and exhausted and he wanted to be done. 

Then he felt Arthur’s pace sort of get irregular and he felt him tense inside him. Forced a groan from John and he panicked a bit. Struggled underneath his grip but Arthur grabbed onto him and forced him still. 

“Mar..” He grunted against his throat. His cock stuffed into John’s ass. 

John knew Arthur was going to say Mary.

He shut his eyes tight and pretended he was going to say Marston.

Arthur pulled out immediately and it felt disgusting. Hurt. No longer distracted by pleasure. Just straight up ached. It earned another small groan. Now another new feeling of something: sticky and hot. Felt it was dripping out of him.

He panted for awhile. All of it just sitting on his senses. 

“Did you do it inside me?” John finally managed to ask softly, panting rough and ragged. 

“Mhm.” 

He exhaled. “Ain’t you supposed to ask?”

“Are you a woman, John?” Arthur’s voice was gruff.

“No.” 

“Then it don’t really matter, now does it.” 

John frowned️. But at least he was glad Arthur didn’t leave. He was still against John. Close. Felt his breathing against his neck. He was a mean man and John didn’t see what he saw in him- But he wanted this. They slowly got comfortable against each other. When Arthur went to leave, John pulled him back. 

Wasn’t an affectionate man. He wasn’t. But he wasn’t ready to leave Arthur yet. His grip on him desperate.

Waited for an objection like ‘You’re a grown man, Marston.’ Or ‘Go lay down. I’m done with you.’ But he got none.

Instead, he got a little bit of affection on top. Arthur shifting so he could pet him. 

Why must Arthur Morgan be so conflicting? It only made it worse for him. Wanted him to stay consistently awful so he could run out of excuses to find him appealing. To remember that he was only sweet to people he liked. That he had been sweet to a Mary Gillis. Not a John Marston.

They breathed against each other and Arthur kissed his neck.

“You did good, John. You did good.” It was a soft praise.

Chilled him. 

Arthur continued. “It was your first time, wasn’t it.” 

“I’ve been with a woman.” John protested because he wasn’t a damn virgin. He wasn’t a child.

He felt him laugh against his skin. 

“You’ve had a woman take you like that?”

“No.” 

“So it was your first time then, wasn’t it, idiot.” 

John felt an uncomfortable humiliation, he shifted. 

“You did fine.” Arthur complimented afterward. “You’re alright. Did you like it?”

John was quiet for a second. “I don’t know.”

Arthur pulled away to look at him. John wasn’t sure what his own expression was. 

Felt a pressure of giving a better answer, but he wasn’t sure if he was able to word it the way he wanted to.

“Did it make you feel like a woman? Is that why you don’t know?” Arthur asked. It seemed genuine.

“No.” John answered instantly.

“Did it feel good?” 

“Yes.” 

Arthur’s expression went annoyed. “Alright.” 

“Can we keep doin’ this?” John asked suddenly. Before he could keep it back.

Arthur sat up fully and pushed John’s legs out of the way to sit on the ground. Grass and dirt loved how sticky they were and dirtied them kindly. 

“Well... Hm. I don’t know.”

He felt suddenly disheartened. His gaze went up at the stars. God damn it all.

“Okay.” 

“The hell would you want to.” Arthur offered back with a chuckle.

Again, arose the situation of John getting to say a whole bunch of stuff he’s been wanting to say. He couldn’t get it out. 

“Er, guess it was nice. Why else would two people do such a thing? Why would I ask."

“'Cause you’re a fool.”

“You love to tell me.” 

Arthur went silent. “Yeah. Well, I’m a fool too.” 

He went and laid down next to John. Pulled him closer. Just moving hurt and when he winced Arthur cooed at him to ease.

“Yer a mean man, Arthur Morgan.” 

“Uhuh.” 

They laid next to each other and looked at the stars. The moon. Both of them naked, sweaty, and gross. It was unsure if Arthur truly felt anything like John did. John doubted it. But he’d take this. For now. 

“I wanna be with you.” He said. His voice a croak. Said with casual confidence. Like he would to a girl he liked.

“Yeah, I know you do.” 

Silence.

"S'at why you kissed me?" 

It was Arthur's turn to keep quiet.

"Or did you kiss me because you knew I wouldn't say no." He continued.

Arthur exhaled. "You don't ever wanna ask questions like that, John."

Marston swallowed. Understood.

“And no matter how I answer, you'll only be mad I hadn't done this three years earlier." It was drawled in a mean lilt of his tongue. It should have made John angry. 

"Ain't that you answerin'?" 

The man shrugged. "Sure." 

Didn't quite know what that meant. He frowned up at the stars. They sparkled above them. Arthur shifted and kissed John on the side of his head. Such a tender action. Especially at how it forced them into a new embrace. 

It summed up everything he loved and hated about Arthur Morgan all at once. John shut his eyes and sunk further into the grass.

Didn’t bother to get dressed. Didn’t bother to do anything. He got the best possible answer from Arthur(Anything other than a no), no matter the man’s true intention. John knew the man would probably drop him at the very chance of Mary coming back into his life, but he didn't care. Right now he was getting what he wanted. Like how Arthur always said he did. A type of irony, he reckoned. John didn't know how it'd fit in everything, but Arthur clearly didn't care.

This would be okay. For no matter how long it’ll last. He’ll take what he can get.

That boulder they've been pushing finally seemed to have reached the top of that mountain.