#one day I’ll be confident enough to un cap a pen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chac-ozai · 5 years

Text

Side Quest: Slow Dance (Dutch/Micah)

Written for my friends and fans of Micah Bell and Peter Blomquist: Who is a wonderful troll and explains a side mission of Dutch and Micah dancing in the forest. I decided to bring life to that, and wrote it out as a story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmSBPPcrTlg&t=286s <The Interview

No tags. Maybe slight racist speech. Enjoy!

To most men on this Earth, poison is deadly. Whether it be by snakebite, a festering wound or tainted water, poison is a reviled substance in which any sane man would do his best to avoid. But not Micah, no, the man lived it, breathed it and found each drop in his life merely encouragement to his being. Poison was laced in between the words of every woman who'd ever scorned him, and Micah had let it fuel his fire every day of his life he'd lived rejected.

But tonight, looking at the woman he'd paced around for hours, her rejection of him was too toxic for him to swallow.

“You're not a monster. You're just not that interesting.” Replayed in his head over and over, and Micah had been so kind to think of her all week, steeling up the courage to speak to the girl only to be shot down so quickly. He watched her now through the smoke of a campfire, he himself cast far off from the party that celebrated the return of that goddamn bog-trottin' Irish kid. There she was, miss Mary Beth looking pretty as a peach in the arms of Arthur Morgan, dancing hand in hand. He couldn't look away, neither at her smile or the slug of a man she'd chosen to dance with.

“You're just not that interesting.” Bitch. Fucking bitch. It was almost as if she didn't notice Micah's incessant eyes on her these past months, gazing through the apertures of the tent canvases. He remembered how angry it made him feel inside when he couldn't get the thought of her out of his mind, the way her teeth nibbled on the cap of a pen while she wrote sweet nothings into her journal.

And he wasn't good enough, wasn't he? Arthur seemed just fine, and he'd even turned the girl down at first. Mr. Van Der Linde and Molly had been grazing them all the while, small box steps and twirls that looked easy enough to mimic. He watched and watched, and when it was over, Morgan did this stupid little bow and she laughed at him.

He didn't even realize he was cleaning off his gun, polishing it incessantly as he watched.

“Hey pendejo, get off your ass and come over here.” Javier kicked the chair he was sitting on, and Micah's fingertips twitched instinctively into his pistol. Wait, no..It's just the greaser.

“What do you want.” Micah bemoans his fate, the Mexican was gesturing towards a table where Mr. Williamson poured a round of 3 drinks.

“Just get the hell over here, damn.” Javier walked away, and Micah glanced back at Dutch..

“Fine.” Micah snorts, spitting into the grass before heaving himself out of his solitude. “Let's see if you ladyboys can hold your liquor.”

“Again, Dutch, it was a smart decision to come with me. It really put's a man's mind back into the right perspective when you step away from it all and give it a, ahah, a good break.” Micah had led the older man through the thick of the forest, far off the path that'd been beaten by horses to Horseshoe Overlook.

“Well, Mr. Bell, if it means getting away from the..insufferable dissidence I am forced to deal with, even for a few minutes, I'll take it.” Dutch had a tired look about him, yet there he was following Micah further into the woods dressed to the nines. The man was polished to a default, despite him being so desperately bored of his situation.

“A man like you shouldn't have to take that amount of nonsense. You're too good for that. That's why I wanted to bring you out here, and talk business.”

Dutch cut him off, something he often did “Come now Mr. Bell, the last thing I want to do right now is talk business. Let's just walk away from the whole thing and clear our heads.”

Micah's heart dropped. He did everything he could to make sure no one saw them leave, every amount of time he had with Dutch was precious and necessary if he was going to make the man see his way. Still, despite the setback Micah still knew how to a polish an apple any which way. Dutch seemed to have something on his mind that formed a quirk on his lips; he had to stop Micah.

“Now Mr. Bell, I couldn't help but notice last night you asking Miss Mary Beth for a dance.” of course Dutch had heard him, Dutch hears everything that goes on in that camp. Micah did a double take and seemed to close up, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

“She's quite a woman. Mmmh.” Micah groaned slightly at the distaste in his mouth from the memory, and clearly he was still sore about it.

“I hope you're not too disappointed. She always did have a soft spot for Arthur.”

“You're quite an attentive man, Dutch. It's very impressive.” They entered a clearing in the forest, a beautiful flat patch of grass illuminated by the sun; and around them? Absolutely nothing.

“You speak too much in favor of me. I'm just a man who knows his sons.” Dutch invited himself to sit on a fallen log and invited Micah to have a seat on the one parallel to him, the gentle sun hidden under the brims of their hats. “-And don't go dropping the subject, Micah. I want to know, what excuse did Mary Beth give you?”

Fuck. When Dutch wanted something he certainly would have it, it reminded Micah so much of his father. Micah visibly squirmed in his seat to the question, her voice cropping up in his head as clear as the first time she'd said it.

“You're not that interesting.” Micah repeated it, word for word. He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief- the mere reminder of the rejection was a blow to an ego so damaged Micah couldn't even acknowledge it.

“...That's what she said?” Dutch asked, he was smiling for some reason. It almost looked like he was about to laugh at him-

“I didn't come out here to gossip.” Micah slithered, but again Dutch had some sort of power over him that no one could resist, not even Mr. Matthews.

“Oooh, come on now, maybe she doesn't think you can dance. Can you?”

“C-Can I?” Micah repeated, Dutch was growing ever more amused at the embarrassed look on his face, his upper lip bitten down and hidden under his mustache. The gang leader found Micah's squirming in discomfort too hilarious to pass up. Micah merely passed a huge sigh, sinking down into his seat with his arms outstretched-

“You know I wasn't really interested in dancing with Mary Beth. Let's be honest here.” Micah admitted, but before he could speak any more, Dutch lept out of his seat looking utterly delighted, clapping his hands together.

“Well, come on then, get up.” He backed away into the clearing, holding out a single hand with a bow.

“Dutch-”

“I won't take no for an answer, get up, Mr. Bell.” Dutch laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkled “If you're going to go for a lovely woman like Mary Beth, you'd best have the confidence to back it up!”

“You asking me to dance with you?!” Micah sunk further into his seat, attempting to glue himself in place. He'd never seen this side of Dutch but the man was so insistent, a huge smile on his face as he took several bouncing steps towards the smaller man and yanking him clean off the log by his wrist. The man was strong as a fucking bear, and Mr. Bell would have tripped over his own pointed boots hadn't it been for the man standing before him.

“Let's go, show me a few moves!” Dutch steadied the man and yanked the man's hat off, Micah's golden hair a mess underneath as he huffed and puffed. So Micah wanted a piece of what Dutch rightfully owned? He was going to have to work for it, some humility could do the boy some good.

“Insistent as a bull, aren't you.” Micah looked up, his eyes where tired but for once non-defiant. He took Dutch's hands in his own, back straight.

“Have some faith in yourself.” Dutch grins, and to Micah's most genuine distress, Dutch broke out into song, taking a first big step

“L'amour est un oiseau rebelle Que nul ne peut apprivoiser, Et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle”

Micah was practically a ragdoll in Dutch's bear-like grip, his small feet clambering along the grass desperately trying to keep himself standing. His eyes looked frantically up at Dutch's singing face, the baritone of his voice shaking through Micah's chest- He'd been so distracted Mr. Bell had stepped on Dutch's feet enough to cake his shoes in dust.

“HA!” Dutch stops on a dime, breaking into a laugh “-Do you even know how to do a box step, son?”

“Shit! You're a maniac, Dutch! I know what I'm doing, you think I can dance with you throwing me around like a god damn sack? You're distracting me!” Micah was red from the neck up, Dutch finding it hilarious how angry the man could get, but oh, did Dutch know how to beguile a soul.

“If I'm distracting you, how do you think you'd do with a beauty like Mary Beth in your grasp?” The man had an amazing ability to change the tides of a conversation. Micah felt himself immediately back down, and he could only break into a nervous laugh.

“That's better.” Dutch mistook his anxiety “Now, from the top. It's one, two, one two-” Dutch broke back into song, the entire process repeating itself from the beginning. The leader kept his eyes on the top of Micah's blonde head while the shorter man bowed down to look at Dutch's footsteps. He stepped on his feet over and over, and every time he did Micah would beg “Let me go.” He wasn't brought out here to do this, He thought he had Dutch in his grasp but he found himself quite the opposite.

“You don't seem to be learning, son.” Dutch grins, and for some reason it burned Micah deep down. The smaller man merely narrowed his eyes, silently nodding at Mr. Van Der Linde before taking it from the top. Dutch grabbed Micah's wrists and made him place them around his shoulders, the taller man's hands now pinned to his hips; Dutch had made a damn woman of him.

Arthur's skills at tracking had become honed in his time working with Charles; and today he'd put them to good use by tracking a most elusive prey. He had his nose down towards the ground, following every broken twig and flattened patch of early spring grass through the forest.

Micah and Dutch had no business being alone together; Arthur never once trusted him, and as time went on his trust of Dutch waned with it. As Arthur spanned the corners of the camp and vanished into the woods, a sort of ominous chill entered him, it was as if the very world around him grew cold as his thoughts delved further into uncharted areas of distrust.

Five minutes, then ten. The late afternoon was growing as cold as his trail and Arthur assumed he simply was not the tracker Charles so liked to believe he'd made of him. A breeze picked up, the clouds overhead dropped the first bit of evening frost to the point that small specks of white began to drift down from the tree canopies.

“God damn.” Arthur found himself in the middle of nowhere, trail cold and with little hope. Whatever Micah was planning on doing with Dutch might as well have been good and done by now. He was ready to turn back and accept he'd failed, but he heard it; music? It was deep and resonant, and Arthur could recognize it somehow. He drew closer to it and now it was unmistakable; who else would have that voice but Dutch?

Two red dodges of color where stark against the treeline, Arthur hunches down and leans into a tree, peering beyond it and stunned by what he sees. He couldn't believe it, Dutch had Micah in his arms and they where dancing in circles, going as far as to have Micah twirling, Dutch leaning the man over into a dip with their legs tied. The snake's expression was unreadable but his hair was tousled, clearly not a smile on his face.

Arthur chewed on his lip in abject confusion yet he couldn't look away, like some sort of sick nightmare he needed to watch play out. Dutch had a twisted smile on his face, the kind he made when he'd won something..he kissed Micah's wrist and watched as the shorter man rip away from him,going to fetch his white hat and cram it back down onto his head. Arthur covered his eyes and reeled in revulsion..The image was pure poison and he had to get away.

He had to tell someone though..But who? Who would believe him? Everyone would think he was stirring shit again, and Arthur cursed his past actions of antagonizing the camp. No one would believe him.

He doesn't even think he believes himself.

#My gay art #Micah Bell #Dutch Van Der Linde #Van Der Bell #RDR2 #red dead redemption 2 #Fanfiction

30 notes · View notes