Work Text:
The thing with being unwell, in the manner that you were, was that you were able to function most of the time. You could get on with your day like everyone else, the ailments troubling your body being there, but not quite forceful enough to knock you off your feet. Of course, you were grateful that things weren’t bad enough to stop you from experiencing all life had to offer, but that didn't negate how exhausting it could be. On some days, it became too much to handle, and you could no longer muster the strength to keep your head up.
Today was such a day, ignoring the brightness of the landscape around you and instead pulling the blanket up to your chin and telling yourself five more minutes repeatedly until it was midday, when you still hadn’t shifted.
Dutch was off working, which most of the time you were thankful for since you didn’t want to fuss in front of him, especially when there was nothing he could do about it; him often having an insatiable desire to fix every problem presented to him. Unfortunately, yours were problems that couldn’t be fixed so easily. But today, your physical and mental exhaustion had extended to emotional, and an overwhelming sadness, tinted with hopelessness, washed over you that you just couldn’t shake. You knew you’d probably feel better if you got out of bed, enjoyed the fresh air, went for a walk, had something to eat... but you just couldn’t. You wanted to lie in bed and pretend the world around you was still for a while.
You curled up, cursing the parts of your body that protested and screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to quieten their pleas along with the thoughts in your mind.
“Sweetheart?”
Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Dutch enter the tent with a mug clutched in his hand and slow steam rising from it.
“Sorry, I’ll get up soon,” you murmured, guilt rising at the non-existent contributions you’d made to the gang that day. Usually, you’d be raring to do all the chores that needed doing, or join the others out on a job, or go into town to find leads of your own. What you hated the most was that you were more than capable of getting up and do those things, but your motivation had wavered to nothing.
Dutch only shook his head, his brow creasing as he took tentative steps towards you until he was sat on the edge of the bed. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” you shifted onto your back to avoid straining your neck to look at him, “I thought you were out for the day?”
“We got finished early,” he stated, leaning over to place the mug on the small table beside the cot, and remaining in his position to run his thumb over your temple. “Stop changing the subject. What’s hurting?”
One of your favourite things about Dutch was his voice. The way he was able to convey so much emotion through it by its tone, volume, and of course his voice cracks. While you loved it when he was passionate and making a speech, assertive when giving out orders, growling when the two of you were intimate, the rarity of it being soft and concerned was always a breath of fresh air that few had the privilege of breathing.
You shrugged, not wanting to admit that truthfully nothing was hurting that much, and risk him thinking you were being overly dramatic.
“I see,” he hummed, and you weren’t too sure what he was referring to but then he stood, stripping down to his union suit and pulling back your covers to join you underneath them. He opened his arms in an embrace for you to fall into, which you did gladly and nestled into the warmth of his broad chest, thankful that he hadn’t pressed you further on the matter.
The truth was that he didn’t need to, he understood without you saying explicitly that you just needed someone else to take the weight, if only for a short while. You never wanted it to be him, though, knowing the heaviness of the duties already pressing down on his shoulders.
“I’m fine, really,” you mumbled into him to lament your falsehood, muffled by the fabric that separated you from his skin.
Mhm, was all he responded with as he began stroking your hair, tenderly and not tangling it up to avoid causing you any further distress. He pulled you further in, and the smell and feeling of home getting all too overwhelming for you. You willed yourself not to cry, but it felt so safe in his arms, and you couldn’t help but let the floodgates creep open.
“Now now, darling,” he shifted to look down at you, but you remained where you were since you didn’t want him to see you cry. You always wanted to be a support for him, something sturdy that he could rely on, not something pathetic and emotional that he had to take care of.
“Look at me, please.” His hand gingerly cupped your jaw and gently willed you to follow his command, which you did hesitantly.
The expression that met your tear-soaked one was still concerned but filled with a promise that told you it’d all be okay. You wondered if it was his intention, as those beautiful dark eyes bore into yours. His thumb ran under your eyes to dry your tears, and you sniffled. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising,” he chastised you gently, kissing your forehead before returning his gaze to you. “It’s okay, you know? It’s all okay. This feeling will pass, I promise.”
“I know,” you nodded, and you did know. You’d known that morning when you woke up; the feeling will pass and by tomorrow you’ll be back to yourself. Sometimes, it just takes a small pity party before you can get to that point.
“You are the most precious thing to me. I will always be in awe of how much you manage to carry,” he took a breath to press his thumb on your bottom lip, “all without complaining. But it’s okay, you can complain if you want to. You have every right. I know it’s tough, and you need to give some of that weight to me every now and again.”
You could only nod, not sure if you’d ever fully believe those words but glad to hear them all the same.
“Is this helping?” he asked, and you nodded as fervently as you could manage. “Then we’ll stay like this until you feel better.”
“Dutch, no, it’s okay – you go and carry on with your work, I’ll be fine, don’t worry -”
“My darling,” he chuckled with the raise of an eyebrow, “are you telling me what to do?”
You managed a small smile, your first one of the day, which softened his features somewhat.
“Because I can assure you,” he continued, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” he cradled your face in his hand, hands that had caused a lot of pain to many but right now were your greatest source of comfort. He nodded his head in the direction of the table behind him, “try some of that tea for me?”
You shifted up onto your elbow, reaching over him and grabbing the mug to take a few sips. It was peppermint, you knew that much, one of your favourites and there was other stuff in there though you couldn’t pick out what it was. “Did you make it?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Do you like it?”
You smirked, taking another few sips before setting it back down and nestling back into his embrace. “I do.”
“Then yes, I did,” he admitted, though you weren’t sure if he was lying, or partially lying – you'd be sure to ask Hosea later whether it was his doing or whether he’d assisted him. You didn’t mind either way.
“Well, thanks, in that case,” you snorted, slotting your leg in between his.
“My pleasure,” he hummed, satisfied with himself. “Would you like me to read to you?”
You shook your head, quick to correct yourself as you didn’t want him thinking you didn’t enjoy him reading to you; you did, but right now you wanted to lose yourself in him, the aggressive outlaw that also happened to be the gentlest person you’d ever met. “Could you just... talk to me? About your day, or a recent event?”
“Course,” his voice rumbled soothingly as he pulled your frame closer, tucking your head under his chin and you were more comfortable there than you’d been all day. He paused for a moment, thinking of which story to tell before he began telling it while you listened to the faint rhythm of his heart. “So, you know how Trelawny hasn’t been around for a while? Well, you’ll never guess where Arthur and I found him this morning...”
You smiled to yourself as you found sanctuary in his words; it would all be okay.