Work Text:
It’s dark outside, and Hosea and Dutch still aren’t back.
They rode off early in the morning, and they had promised to be back before lunchtime with something to eat.
But lunch came and went, Arthur having to finish the last of their canned beans on his own. Cold, because he doesn’t want to waste firewood and he’s too nervous to think, let alone go out and chop wood on his own.
Then the sun went down, and there still weren’t any signs of them.
Arthur hates to think about what that means.
He finds himself scratching at his wrists again, tries to steady himself. Breathe in and out, just like Dutch had taught him to do when getting those ‘fits’ as they called them, when he was so nervous that he couldn’t control himself.
‘Think of something that makes you happy’, Dutch had said, but it didn’t work at all this time because he- Hosea and him were the only ones that ever made him happy.
And now they were gone.
One scenario after the other flashes before his eyes.
Hosea and Dutch with holes in their heads, the law finding them even this far into the wild.
Them being ripped apart by wolves, mauled by bears or just them covered in snow, frozen to death.
Or one much less gruesome scenario, but that still manages to send him into panic. The thought of them on their way to New Austin without him.
Perhaps he is just as rotten and selfish and stupid as his father always told him, because the thought of that hurts him far more than the thought of them being dead.
It takes him much longer than it should to get up from the chair, getting lightheaded just from walking the few steps between the main room to their bedroom. He needed to check, needed to make sure that their belongings still were there, that they hadn’t taken everything with them. As long as their things were there, their books, Dutch’s rings – as long as those things were there, they wouldn’t have left him. At least not willingly.
He’s just about to open the door but stops himself when he hears voices from the outside.
It could be anyone, a gang of thieves, lost travelers looking for shelter just like they had done.
He slowly walks towards the front door. It takes some effort to get it to open, the snow already laying thick in front of it even though he shoveled the whole porch just the day before. He peeks through the small opening, and relief floods him in an instant. He slams the door open, gaining just enough energy to do so from the joy of seeing them again.
Hosea barely gets the time to turn around before Arthur slams into him, clinging to him as if his life depends on it.
“I thought you were gone,” he says with his face buried into Hosea’s chest. He doesn’t care about being careful, doesn’t care at all if Hosea finds him annoying, not about the fact that he’s crying either. He’s just so happy that they didn’t leave him, and happy that they are alive and well.
He feels Hosea’s gloved hand against the back of his head, carefully stroking his hair. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” he says, “We got into trouble on the way.”
Arthur wants to say something, he knows he should, that’s the proper way to respond to an apology, that’s what Hosea taught him, but he can’t find his voice, so instead he just presses his face even harder against Hosea, hoping that the other man won’t get mad over the fact that he’s leaving snot and tears all over his shirt.
“It’s okay, Arthur,” Hosea says, still patting his head. He doesn’t sound annoyed at all, something Arthur is very thankful for, “We’re here now.”
He could stand the whole night like that, with Hosea’s coat almost wrapped completely around him and with Hosea’s chin resting against the top of his head. Hosea seems content in standing like that too, neither of them moving at all until their peace is interrupted by Dutch’s booming voice.
“I can’t carry both carcasses on my own, you know!”