Affection (Chapter III)
Affection is a Morbell fanfiction with multiple chapters. Following the Chapters links for AO3:
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Summary: Dutch sends Arthur and Micah on a money hunt in Saint Denis. It had become regular practice for the two of them to go out looking for money together. Dutch insisted that they learned to be brotherly, and neither Arthur nor Micah wasted any more of their breath arguing against it. In Saint Denis, bored and tired from roaming without finding anything interesting, they decide to wait until evening and rob the middle-class people in dark alleys. They couldn't possibly return empty-handed, could they? A brief tale of two outlaws discovering something they never expected to find.
You can also read Chapter III under the cut.
Micah could have kept riding forever if Baylock had let him.
He was frowning in the breeze of the Bayou Nwa region as Baylock led him back to camp. All those hours outside and he had done nothing but curse that whole situation and Arthur Morgan. What else was there to think about? It was exactly as he anticipated: Arthur didn't want the others to find out about the little time they had spent together. Good. Then it would have been better to drop the mask of politeness and treat him like any other decent gunslinger. He should have done that from the start.
Baylock slowed his pace as soon as Shady Belle peeped through the trees. Micah sighed and ran a hand over the stallion's neck.
"Good, Baylock," Micah mumbled and dismounted.
He left him with the other horses, free. Baylock did not like being tied to a post.
It was late in the evening, Micah could see the others gathered around the fire listening to Uncle’s banjo. And there, sitting on the log, was Arthur Morgan.
He didn't bother to conceal an annoyed grunt as he walked past the campfire.
Walking toward the boathouse with a cigarette between his lips, he thought it would be better to stay away from the water in the evening. So he stopped and leaned against the pillar of the side entrance of the manor.
And it would have been an acceptable conclusion to the day if only Swanson had decided to go squealing in someone else's ears.
"You keep screechin' like that and God might just descend from the heavens to send you personally to hell," Micah snickered as he looked the Reverend directly in the eyes.
Swanson was unable to reply and didn't even stop singing as Micah cursed him, he just slightly lowered his voice. Then he staggered away, leaving Micah alone at last.
Or so he thought.
The exact moment Swanson disappeared around the corner, Micah saw Arthur's silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He watched Arthur getting closer. Micah took one long, slow puff that willed his mouth with thick smoke.
"I ain't looking for a fight, alright?" Arthur said, stopping in front of Micah.
"Whatever you say, cowpoke," Micah said, sounding bored and uninterested as smoke escaped his nostrils.
"Okay, then. I'm sorry," Arthur instead sounded genuinely apologetic for what he had said or rather implied, a few hours earlier.
"For what?" Micah blurted out that question immediately after Arthur's apology. That wasn't enough. He wanted to know what he was apologizing for because, honestly, he didn't think Morgan knew.
"For…" Arthur paused and huffed, then resumed. "Y'know. I don't wanna complicate things is all."
"Ain't nothin’ complicated about it. Even you can understand it. You'd rather people not know you was about to kiss old Micah Bell. And that is all," Micah laughed and smoke came out of his mouth. His eyes locked into Arthur's as the mocking grin kept simmering on his lips.
The expression on Arthur's face went from apologetic to surprised to embarrassed and finally settled on a look of annoyed resignation. “You wasn’t taught when to stop.”
“Why, you wanna teach me, cowpoke? Wanna make me behave so you can be seen with me?” Micah chuckled, but there was a tinge of irritation building up in his voice. He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and took a step closer to Arthur. “Wanna make me your little project so you can try and make me a freak?”
Arthur was puzzled, his eyebrows raised as he listened to Micah's series of sarcastic questions. Rather than angry or annoyed, Arthur was confused. "What?"
“You heard me. You’re trynna make me queer. I ain’t no queer,” Micah's tone was now harsh and he no longer laughed. In the distance, the others were singing along to a folk song.
In response, Arthur rolled his eyes and brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He shook his head several times and couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You're telling me that I" Arthur brought both hands to his chest, "am trynna make you," he pointed at Micah with his index finger, "queer." There was a moment of silence in which Arthur stared intently into Micah's eyes. "D'you realize you ran away for hours because you was so offended I didn't tell Jack you was in my room?"
"That's because I thought we was friends," Micah wavered for a moment, his eyes drifting from Arthur to the ground. It was the truth, but not the whole truth.
Arthur was silent for a bit, waiting for Micah to look up again, but it didn't happen. "Yeah, well, I ain't trynna make you queer. I ain't gonna say I..." Arthur paused and cleared his throat. "Whatever. I said sorry."
Micah went through several frowny faces as he tried to find the words to say what he felt he needed to say. It would have been easier if he knew what he was feeling.
Arthur's shoes lingered there, still standing in front of him. Why wouldn't he leave?
What would have happened if he had stayed in Arthur's room? Would he really have granted him a kiss?
His fists clenched as he looked up at the man in front of him.
Arthur was so close to him that night. Closer than he would have allowed anyone else. And Micah wanted him even closer.
His nostrils flared and he began shaking his head. What was he even thinking? Surely those feelings were of tipsy Micah, not the sober one. This was all a misunderstanding, it must have been. Otherwise...
Micah laughed and opened his arms. All a misunderstanding. He lightly pushed Arthur in the chest as he kept on that nervous laughter.
"Things we do while drunk, eh, cowpoke?" Micah said, his lips pulled into a smile and his brows furrowed. An inscrutable look. "Apologies accepted," he gestured to nothing in particular.
Arthur nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood straight and still in front of Micah with no intention of moving.
“You can go now,” Micah said, moving his hand toward the rest of the camp.
“I ain’t heard your apology yet,” Arthur said, shifting in place from one leg to the other.
“’Cause you ain’t gettin’ one,” Micah’s low chuckle was the only thing to fill the silence for a few seconds. “Just go.”
“You accused me of forcing you-”
“I ain’t said nothing like that,” Micah quickly interrupted, raising a hand to Arthur’s face.
“You said I was trynna-”
“Yes. You was trynna,” Micah interrupted him once again, now starting to raise his voice. “You was.”
“So what?” Arthur raised his voice to match Micah’s. He spoke fast, not wanting to be interrupted once again. He took one step closer to the blond. “Don’t remember you doin’ something to stop me.”
There was silence. Micah was speechless as he stood there, his gaze shifting between Arthur’s eyes.
“Look at you. Fighting society like the rest of us but still following their rules,” Arthur took another step, towering over him.
“There’s a difference between society and the nature of things,” Micah said, his voice now low, struggling to maintain eye contact.
“Weren’t it natural?” Arthur’s gaze softened, the back of his hand lightly brushed over Micah’s cheek just once before only his index finger was touching his scarred chin.
Micah wanted to rest his cheek against Arthur’s hand but all he did was close his eyes tight for a moment. It looked like he was about to say something when he opened his eyes again. He turned his head towards the camp. There was no one there.
“Checkin’ if someone can see?” Arthur smirked and lowered his hand.
“Ain’t nothin’ to laugh about,” Micah quickly turned his head back, giving him a stern look.
“I ain’t laughing at all. Just… funny, ain’t it?” Arthur looked down at him, clearly smiling.
“What?” Micah sounded exasperated.
“You. You got angry at me for doin’ the exact same thing,” now he was trying to hold back a chuckle.
“Wasn’t the same-” Micah began to say.
“Micah,” this time Arthur interrupted him in a reprimanding tone.
Micah stopped and looked at him with a questioning look. Just now he noticed Arthur was as close as he was last night. And he was doing nothing to stop him. Did he want to stop him? Why did he even allow him to touch him like that now that he was sober?
Then Arthur called again, softer this time, trying to bring him back from his thoughts. “Micah,” his hand was back on his cheek, caressing him from his cheekbone down to his beard.
Micah’s breathing was fast, barely managing to breathe through his nose. His head was ever so slightly tilted towards Arthur’s hand and there it rested for a few seconds before Micah realized it. He averted his gaze and turned his head to look back towards the camp.
“You’re an idiot,” Arthur said with a smirk on his lips, waiting for a reaction. Micah turned his head so fast he could have strained a muscle.
Arthur lowered his head, almost brushing Micah’s nose. “Ain’t no one there,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Micah’s.
It was just like the night before; Arthur so close he could feel his warmth and him standing there, doing nothing to stop him. Something in Arthur’s eyes had him hypnotized. Micah held his breath.
Arthur’s hand moved to his nape and pushed him just an inch closer.
Their lips met softly, innocently. Arthur’s eyes were closed and Micah watched him, unable to move.
It was just a peck, Micah’s inability to reciprocate made Arthur let go of him, interrupting the contact.
Micah’s heart was jumping, his leg was twitching for the adrenaline rush. He gave a quick, final look toward the camp without even moving his head.
There was no one there.
Micah made a decision.
He brought a hand to the back of Arthur's head far less gently than Arthur did, drew him close and pressed their lips together.
Micah’s eyes were shut, their lips still locked in what looked like anything but a proper kiss. Their mouths were pressed together to the point Micah could feel the outline of Arthur’s teeth. He felt Arthur smiling against him. It made him feel better.
As Micah relaxed, Arthur slightly opened his mouth and kissed Micah’s lower lip. His fingers ran through Micah’s long locks as the other hand cupped his cheek.
Micah gave in fully when Arthur’s tongue brushed against his lips. He opened his mouth to accommodate it. Micah felt himself melting when their tongues finally met. Arthur was so warm.
Arthur. Arthur Morgan was kissing him.
The realization, the guilt, the fear of getting caught shocked him out of the kiss. It felt like a splash of freezing water in winter.
Micah took one step back, frantically looking towards the camp. He exhaled through his mouth, his mind racing with a thousand what-ifs.
“Want to go upstairs?” Arthur asked.
I love the way you wrote Micah, he's PERFECT! Exactly how I perceived their relationship. You're awesome, you get it, someone finally GETS it. He's homophobic in RDR2, people forget that.
