Playing Dangerous ? ||RDR2 // Arthur Morgan X Reader||

chapter 20; burning desire

"How many of those have you actually had?" you dared to ask as Arthur walked the both of you away, back in the direction of the campfire. He was leaning against you ever so slightly, this vacantly drunk look on his face whilst he dwelled on your question.

"One... Five." He slurred, which instantly made you laugh. You don't think you had ever seen him drunk before.

"One? Or Five? That's a bit of a difference?" you teased him, as he sat you down on one of the crates beside the campfire, and wobbled over to grab you another glass of gin. (eye colour) eyes watched him in humoured disbelief as Arthur attempted to pour you a glass, sloshing most of the gin down the side and onto the table top.

It was messy, the side of the glass slippery with gin as you licked the alcohol from your fingers and thanked your drunk waiter none the less for the drink.

"I... might go see if Lenny wants somethin'." He mumbled to himself, and then went wobbling across the camp in a precarious fashion, shouting 'LENNY' at the top of his lungs.

"Is Uncle Arthur okay?" Jack's little voice piped up, and yourself and Abigail just looked at each other a little gone out. But it seemed either way, Abigail had a very good prepared answer for young ears.

"He's fine. He's just really happy – like when your Pa drinks that happy juice?" Abigail explained to her young son, "Uncle Arthur has just had some happy juice too."

Happy Juice. That was one word for it.

--

The night you also discovered your happy juice, in the form of gin. After many glasses your senses rather numbed to it's highly alcoholic taste and you could drink it back as if it was simply water. It didn't leave you in a good state however – as by midnight you were crying around the campfire next to Javier, who had his arm around you supportively even though his face spelled confusion of a man who wasn't quite sure how to handle a drunk, emotional young woman.

"I just left him there! I didn't have the chance to go and get him when he left..." you wailed, leaning yourself against the Mexican's shoulder. Javier gave you a gentle squeeze.

"There, there, amiga," he cooed at your drunken dramatics, "If he's stabled up, they will be takin' good care of him."

You had been crying over your horse, Boxer – for about twenty minutes now. The alcohol just helped over stimulant your emotions and you had gone from feeling sadness to emitting pure devastation at the thought of your estranged horse.

"I just want him back. I miss him." You whimpered pathetically. Poor Javier, having to deal with this.

"It's fine, we'll get him back." He assured you, flashing a half amused glance at everyone who walked about and stared at you in concern – slumped there against Javier with tears rolling down your face.

However half an hour later, it was a totally different picture – dancing, shouting and screaming along to the songs at the top of your lungs. You had changed your colours quicker than a chameleon, feeling an elation like no other as you appeared to all be ending off the night with the entire gang gathered around the campfire – singing a perfectly hearty tune led by Uncle and Javier.

Through bleary eyes, you looked around at the circle of bodies – smiling faces and simple happiness, love and belonging in the air. Sat on Arthur's knee, you relished in the perfect bliss you felt in this very moment. Drunk, singing out of tune but you did not care – you had everything you could possibly want.

It appeared the love in the air was abundant, with John and Abigail smiling adoringly at one another whilst Jack perched on his mother's lap – and it seemed Karen and Sean were at it again with the little love affair they seemed to heighten most during parties like this. Everything just felt so dreamlike, compared to the horror you had been living in just some days ago.