ଓ.° ・ arthur morgan. red dead redemption 2.
note: female reader, is referred to as 'missus'. arthur is drunk.
you truly weren't sure what to expect when hosea informed you that lenny and arthur were, in fact, very much inebriated-- ah, well, that was the kind and proper way to describe it, hosea said. you also weren't sure why you were so insistent this time around on tagging along and getting a certain outlaw home yourself; you knew he'd always find his way back to you, come hell or high water.
"honey bun," you say, words quiet and nearly drowned out in the chaos of the saloon, "i think you drank too much."
your touch is as tender as ever, hand gently pulling on his as you carefully, albeit clumsily try to drag him out of the building. you can see lenny laughing loudly in the corner, hosea sighing as he pats the younger gentleman on the back. you can't help but smile at the nonsense, though it falters the moment you feel arthur let go of your hand.
"...sorry, miss." he mumbles, half coherent. "i got a beautiful missus waitin' at home. can't be doing anythin' like holdin' hands."
you tilt your head, brows furrowed in slight puzzlement. must have drank more than usual, you assume.
"...yes'm?" he suspects you won't let up-- he's preparing for some incomprehensible ramble to shoo you, and you're very well aware of this-- as much as you'd love to hear it, you're a little tired, and you'd like to just go to sleep and be held by a certain cowboy that you love dearly.
you both just stare at each other, amusement meeting cluelessness, confusion, and...ah-- there it is. you smile when his eyes seem to brighten up at the sudden realization and recollection that you are, in fact, his.
"...so you are." he says. "well, i'll be damned. lucky me." he mumbles.
you roll your eyes, holding your hand out, the curve of your lips growing ever so softly as he gladly holds it.
"lucky you, arthur morgan."
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