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Chapter Text

Sean’s hand raced to cover his mouth, as his body was practically jolted up with adrenaline and instinct to stop his scream. He sat up like that for a few seconds, shaking and rocking back and forth slightly. Heart pounding against his chest in a way that didn’t help the sickness in his stomach, he strained his eyes around to study his dark surroundings. He wasn’t in that room, he knew that, didn’t he? They hadn’t just shot his da, and he hadn’t just lost the only family he had left. That was years ago.

So why, everynight for the past week, did it feel like it had just happened? Why was he being plagued with visions of him, pale white skin streaming with blood and multiple ugly bullet holes sunk into his face, but somehow the fear and pain on his face was gleaming more than any crimson fluid. The worst part was that it never even happened like that! Why was he being tortured by his own memories?! His da’s skin wasn’t that pale, with them working in the American sun for a few weeks, they shot him once in the side of his head, and there was never that much blood! Not to mention, he didn’t look pained or scared. If you ignored the blood, he was just…sleeping.

His killers hadn’t even sneered in Sean’s face, mocked him, or spat on him like they did in the nightmare. In reality, they had just looked surprised, and the one at the back looked a little distressed at the sight of this kid, screaming and throwing himself off the sofa he was sleeping on, caught in an aura of pure panic, and running to his da’s body while crying in distress and fear. They had all left before Sean could even look at them again.

He’d never forget. God, did he want to.

Horseshoe Overlook was silent. The camp was barely ever silent like this, someone was always awake at sometime…maybe the someone awake was him. He felt the sweat dripping down his back, and the feverish heat across his face. Panting a few short breaths, he rose shakily, placing a hand on his aching stomach. It was an unfortunate but regular feeling for him that came with the anxiety.

“Fuck,” It slipped out like a groan as he stumbled to a seat just next to his bedroll, hunched slightly with pain. The seat was facing the fire, which had lost its usual glow, now fading to small, orange sparks. He would throw something in or poke it to keep it burning, but he just didn’t have the energy. Flopping back in the chair, he let out a few shaky breaths, moving his gaze up to the stars.

They were certainly bright that night, with their beacons of light standing out against their background of black, blue, purple ...the night sky really was beautiful. It didn’t help the lingering panic encasing his chest and speeding his heart as much as he’d hoped, though. Breathing in through his nose deeply, he tried to focus on the gorgeous display above, instead of the irritating heat burning his cheeks, that contrasted so hard against the coolness of the camp it was more than feelable. At least his feet didn’t ache so bad.

“I probably look like a right idiot,” He thought to himself as he tightened his lips together. Maybe Arthur would ride into camp, see him and laugh. Or maybe he was just making things up to upset himself, Sean did that a lot, because he knew really Arthur wasn’t going to see him upset and laugh, not on purpose anyway. He’d laughed and joked about leaving Sean to die, back at Ike Skelding’s camp, but that was because he…didn’t know how bad it was, wasn’t it? And he wasn’t serious so it didn’t matter anyway.

The blonde cowboy probably didn’t even remember he’d said it.

Suddenly, his neck started to ache with discomfort from being forced to gaze directly above, and his stomach was also cramping slightly because he wouldn’t stop thinking about it, which naturally meant it only got worse. Looking down at his feet, he focused on the dull, throbbing that happened across the skin there they had left peeling and very slowly healing, remembering exactly how it felt to be restrained by that rough, dry rope that irritated and scratched his sensitive skin, leaving it angry and red, as they burnt his feet.

Sean had kicked and yelled with fury and protest, feeling the exhausted ache that ran through his arm muscles at being forced to hold his own body weight like that. He was still there when it got dark at their camp. Swallowing thickly, like it was his own pride instead of saliva, he had stuttered out a curse at the feeling of tears.

Hot tears that escaped his eyes, like a flood-causing downpour of rain, dribbled down his face as he internally begged himself to stop being so fucking pathetic. The entire time, the Irish boy had failed to hold it in, looked away so they couldn’t see his face, breathed deeper and slower, tightened his lips, he had done anything he could to not cry because he was genuinely afraid of what they’d do if they saw him bawling like a child. He still did, silently to himself as he fought to keep it under control. But now, he really couldn’t stop himself, as his time in the darkness, alone as his torturers were in their tents, made him reflect on the fact he was pretty sure no one was coming to save him, that they were mostly likely going to beat him to death or leave that for the noose.

At first, it was just silently as his cheeks started to turn wet and his lip quivered. A whine slipped out of his mouth, which was still throbbing with shooting pains in a way that made him want to scream. Trying to press his jaw together to stop the noise, he almost bellowed in pain. A few shaky breaths and whines later, he was sobbing to himself, getting louder and louder as the fact he was crying pathetically upset him more, like an awful loop that trapped him.

He deserved this, didn’t he? Sean didn’t want it, his spitting and snarking had made this clear, but didn’t he deserve it for the people he killed? The things he did? Normally, he would’ve never let himself think that way. Safe in your camp with people who had done the same things, you didn’t let yourself linger on your past, what you did to survive, the things they had made him do…but now, it was dark and lonely and he was so sure he was near the end. He couldn’t stop himself.

And if his da could see him now, his grown son sobbing and weakly submitting to his restraints, limply hanging from exhaustion, what would he say? Sean liked to imagine that if he somehow crawled back from the dead, he’d shoot every single one of Ike Skelding’s boys and cut him down. Maybe they’d go and get their new start. Maybe he’d just hold Sean, tell him “It wasn’t your fault” or “I’m proud of you, son,”. Maybe he’d do nothing at all.

Because Darragh was dead, and soon Sean would be too.

“What the hell? Would ya look at that…,”
“Fuckin’ baby,”
“Ike, that dumb bastard is crying!”

One with ratty black hair and bald spots had emerged from his tent, probably to take a piss, and had definitely heard his wails. It had caused a domino effect of pretty much all of them coming out, sneering and laughing, or just looking at him as if he was genuinely disgusting. And he was, but that wasn’t his fault. The sick bastards had found amusement in many things that left him looking and smelling nothing short of absolutely revolting.

They’d let him have a lot of water so he’d goddamn piss himself, and he’d yell more curses at them when they mocked him for it. They shoved things in his mouth, like balls of dirt, so he’d vomit all over himself. It was nights like that where he’d cry with his jaw so tight so as not to make a sound. A few hours ago, they’d wrenched a few of his teeth out, so blood pooled in his mouth and he’d genuinely almost choked, so from his lips to his chest, bright blood trailed.

God, was he embarrassed.

“You fuckin’ pussy,” That was Ike, with his rotted teeth and greasy mustache. Though, Sean couldn’t say much. He imagined he had the greasiest hair in America right now. Sniffing hard and staring at Ike through bloodshot eyes, he hissed “You ugly bastard,” which earned him a punch in the stomach, causing another tear to sneak out. Ike was right, he was a pussy.

“Can I do it now, boss?” One of Ike’s boys, short with spiky red hair and spots, begged. Do what?
“Why not,” He sneered back, glancing at the boy for a second more before turning his face back to Sean with the same look. “I think you’ll like this. Well, we will. A bit of entertainment and the information we want,”

He didn’t think he could feel even more scared, but he definitely felt the unmissable urge to vomit when the boy, along with a rougher, older looking one, returned with logs and matches.
They practically dumped them under his feet, with Ike kicking them into a messy pile a few times, that goddamn smile never leaving his chapped lips. Sean was exhausted, but he started to thrash against the ropes, which just irritated his skin more. Because he knew what the fuck they were doing, and it was so unimaginably inhumane he retched dryly and gasped.

Another one, around the same age as Sean, but bigger, approached with something that looked like newspaper bits bundled in his hand. God, they were serious about this! He watched, terrified as the big man tucked bits into the dump of wood, snickering. He observed for a second before stepping back so another could approach. If Sean had the slightest bit of energy, he’d try to kick them back like his last defence.

The older one pulled a bottle of unidentifiable whiskey out from his trench coat pocket, and even though it was dark, Sean could vaguely see in the moonlight that the bounty hunter was keeping full eye contact with him, expressionless in an eerie way as he drenched the pile in the alcohol.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He spat in Ike’s face. “No, no!”

The match was light, it sparkled for attention against the night's darkness that overwhelmed the camp.

It dropped.

It blazed.

A scream burst out of his lungs without warning, tearing through his throat lining with a lingering searing sensation and echoing all around the camp, caused simply by the panic and surprise at the burst of flames.

The scream quickly turned to be pained as the orange flames grew to encase his feet in their relentless waves of agony that shot up and coursed through all his senses until he couldn’t feel anything but the torture of his tender flesh being torn away and scorched by the heat. Tears streamed harder as his pleas and begs even managed to drown out the crackles of the thriving, well-fed fire.

“Stop it! Please stop! Please don’t do this!” Sean was shamelessly wailing and thrashing and pulling himself up higher with the rope, using the adrenaline which accompanied the alarm and hysteria, trying so hard to get himself out of blistering, extreme heat to no avail. As his words faded into broken screams and bawls, he saw no sympathy at all in their faces.

They were laughing, they were loving this! This really was entertainment for him! But he could barely notice that, he was overwhelmed by the searing pain and the way his overworked lungs burnt with breathlessness instead of the fire. As he shrieked in pain, he began to think, “I am going to die.”

The Irishman couldn’t even form a single word other than the occasional “No,” and “Stop,” as he hyperventilated hard. Between the screams, he was panting shortly as his poor chest heaved in and out, feeling physically drained. He was going to be sick.

He retched and gagged, letting it pour out of him with a groan, feeling it force its way out of his stomach. He couldn’t see it, but he was sure it would just look clear and acidic anyway from lack of food. The pain, the hyperventilating, the vomiting, the screaming, the tears, the fucking blood and piss stained into his clothes overstimulated him massively until there was nothing.

Sean passed out.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Sean found sitting that chair, absorbing the late-night’s sharp air as he let it pour heavily in and out of his lung, pondering on his nightmares, was an unusually better experience than closing his eyes, letting his guard down and living the nightmares instead. Neither made him feel happy, but at least staying up made him feel safer, especially when the fear eventually faded.

So, were those his two options? Sitting awake all night instead of sleeping, or attempting to sleep only to be forced awake feeling like shit anyway? Maybe if he stayed up, he could entertain himself, or at least take extra guard duty shifts to make up for the fact his exhaustion could potentially deem him even more of a liability. Not to mention, there was nothing stopping his body from reacting to something like that just like it did when he first arrived in Boston.

He’d immediately scream out loud as his younger self didn’t have the reflexes to cover his mouth in time yet, which always made him feel guilty when he saw his da jolt up in a panic too, only appearing to relax when he saw where they were and who was screaming.

The nightmares regularly consisted of them being chased out of their home by the British, his ma, or mammy as she was called then, dying just as she did in real life. The difference the awful dreams had, however, was that they never ever made it. His da was killed, Sean was always caught up with, and even once, Sean was the only person in his family they were chasing.

He’d sit on the sofa, in his room in the inn, rocking back and forth as he cried as silently as he could, and would jump again at the feel of someone’s warmth next to him. Darragh would let Sean fall into his arms and cry, and his young son would soak the feeling up like it was running out.
But no one was going to hold him now, were they?

After guard duty, it was noon and he felt less miserable. His feet ached and when Arthur was riding in, he had called the younger man's dick small, an uncalled for insult that left Sean attempting to taunt him back as he watched the blonde ignorantly urge his new horse onwards with a belly laugh. It wasn’t even that funny. But that didn’t bring him down.

The sun was bright and unignorable, its sweet glow bathing the camp in refreshing warmth and good moods. Everyone seemed fairly pleasant to each other, which left Sean with a smile sneaking onto his face, a big change from his moping and spiralling he had made himself endure before. I was just being an eejit last night, he internally decided.

He relaxed against his chair, his sage-coloured eyes stuck on the darker boy across from him. Lenny had a rather uniquely blank face, leaning forward as he carefully read the newspaper he had placed on the table. His arms were placed under his chin as he read. Sean found it cute, but that was because he was his best friend and very special to him platonically.

“That any good?” Sean asked after observing for a minute, sounding like he was teasing. The way Lenny looked up at him with that sharp gaze, with that funny, sassy thing he did with his chocolate-coloured eyes like he was staring into your soul, made Sean chuckle slightly. He wasn’t even sure if the other knew he did that.
“No,” Lenny huffed like he was annoyed at the paper and not the Irishman. “I’ve been trying to finish this book, but I can’t seem to find the time or the peace.”
“So you chose to read the news instead? Sure, that’s even worse to put yourself through,”
“Hey,” Lenny hissed at him playfully. “A fella needs to be informed. It might do you some good-”

Sean immediately knew what Lenny was suggesting, and was quick to protest.
“No, you are not ruining a lovely day with your evil books.”
“It’s not like we’d be able to concentrate anyway,” was the other's response with a slight shrug. The fact he was miserable about not being able to read, on a beautiful day like this, was kind of making the ginger boy feel sympathy. He didn’t really understand why Lenny being slightly upset affected him so much. After a beat of silence, Sean proposed his idea, one that had been lingering in his imagination for a while now.

“How ‘bout this? We get out of this fucking camp for a day, go to some field, sure there’s lots of them about, and let out hair down like bloody women for a bit, eh? That way, Hosea ain’t gunna pop up with his knickers in a twist ‘bout us lazing around, you get to read in peace and I get to get a tan,”

His tone was confident, but inside his heart was hammering against his chest at the thought of Lenny being uncomfortable at the request, since they’d never gone out before where it had been just them. What if he interpreted it as something it wasn’t?! His stomach churned slightly. But, to his delight, the darker boy broke out into a smile.

“Sure!” Brightly replying, he pushed himself up to stand. “I’ll grab that book, and meet you by the horses!”
“Alrightly!” He called after him. Relief flooded him, and he felt excitement shivering up his body, multiplying and spreading, making him practically bursting with anticipation to get to the place he had in mind. Why was he excited to be alone with Lenny? He wasn’t, it was just excitement to get out of camp…with Lenny.

The ride to the spot made them feel even warmer than they had in camp, and they were caught in a haze of each other, as their steeds trotted harmoniously together. Sean led Lenny to a quiet, grassy area below Twin Stack Pass, across from an old Oil Derrick. By the time they got there, the younger man was in hysterics because of something the other had said, and Sean was not helping, continuing talking as he dismounted.

“And then, he said it would have to be one hell of a precision shot! I would’ve knocked ol’ English out clean, but, of course, Hosea was watching and he wouldn’t have liked that-. Hey, it’s not funny, kid!” He ranted, but he was grinning at Lenny’s reaction. He felt warm and fuzzy inside, it must’ve been the sun, which was still high and vivid against its pastel blue background.

“Kid…,” Lenny repeated like it left a sour taste on his tongue, but he still beamed. “How old are you, Sean?”

Hesitantly, Sean spat his age out. “20.” The darker boy’s eyebrows shot up as his mouth opened to point out the fact he had absolutely no right to be calling him kid, the statement, while true, was laced with mock offence.

About a minute later, they were sitting comfortably, facing each other, though Lenny had his face in his book almost immediately. The Irishman opened his mouth to speak, but then remembered the whole reason they were out there was to have peace. So he laid back, placing his hands comfortably on his chest and crossing his legs together. Breathing through his nose, Sean absorbed the way the air smelt of fresh earth and pollen, the sun tickling his skin and heating his cheeks.

They had both found the peace they were seeking, and almost the silence, as their stillness attracted a few birds to land and sing a summertime nearby. Both softly whinnying, Maggie and Ennis grazed about nearby. This wasn’t a normal activity for outlaws, they both knew that, but there wasn’t such a thing as an outlaw rule book, so surely it was fine. Neither could care less if it wasn’t, anyway.

The tranquil atmosphere could've easily lulled the exhausted ginger man to sleep if he’d let it, and he almost did, but the thought of having another nightmare and panicking in front of Lenny, who was undisturbed finally, made him especially careful not to let himself submit to rest. Sean shooting up and becoming frantic and anxious was not what either of them needed now. Besides, who needs rest anyway? Dead-eye MacGuire certainly did not. He just chose too sometimes.

Content, they stayed how they were for almost half-an-hour.

It was Lenny who broke the silence, closing his book and placing it next to him. His eyes drifted over to Sean’s, who’s gaze met him halfway. For some ‘unknown’ reason, it caused them both to break out into awkward yet cheerful smiles, heat on their cheeks and their hearts. A butterfly rose from the green grass and flew past, colourful and brisk, reflecting what Sean felt inside of him, thousands of butterflies circling his senses.

To his absolute surprise and almost delight, Lenny moved to lay next to him. He was close. Not touching, but close. As he admired the other boy, he noticed how the smarter man looked nothing short of pure dazzling under the clear shine from above. The observation just would not leave his thoughts, and wouldn’t let his eyes tear away from the lustrous beauty he found, just next to him.

Really, it was undeniable at this point. But was he going to keep denying it? Of course he was.

“Damn, it’s warm,” Lenny stated, slipping easily out of his pale jacket to reveal his toned arms that glistened slightly under the sun. God, if his eyes weren’t hooked on him then, they absolutely were now. It was jealous, it had to be. Sean was jealous of Lenny’s physique.

They laid like that, together, basking in the sun and chatting about whatever popped into one of their heads in the moment. Time had felt endless.But, to their disappointment, it obviously wasn’t. The ride back was just as slow as the ride there, as the sun was getting close to dipping behind the treeline, and Lenny had insisted they go back in a worry about Sean’s poor, pale skin that had been battling against the UV waves while they’d relaxed. The younger man's skin also stung a little too, but they both silently agreed a bit of sunburn was worth it for the time they’d had.

Back in camp, he sat in front of the fire, hands on his thighs as he stared off towards where Lenny was, eating the stew and talking to Mary-Beth. A pang of jealousy caused him to frown slightly, but that was only because of the fact everyone got to painlessly enjoy the stew. Nothing to do with Lenny.

Tonight, he had decided he wasn’t going near the pot, end of. Especially not after the raging toothache that left him shamefully close to tears last time he tried to grind his way through it. Having his head in his hands, sitting on that box in the lower area of camp alone, hearing Javier quietly observe and ask someone near him if Sean was okay, knowing if it got any worse he’d surely get up and run off the edge of camp so he’d fall to his death, was not something he wanted to repeat. He’d rather starve.

The thought made him realise he actually hadn’t eaten all day, but he shrugged it off and decided Dead-eye MacGuire could handle it.

Broken out of his thoughts, Sean noticed Arthur staring at him. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” He demanded, with a tired and unappreciative tone. The older outlaw smirked. “Where’d all them freckles come from?” He chuckled and teased, causing the other to sit up straighter in questioning.

“What you talkin’ about, English?” Confused, he pressed at him. But, to his dismay, Arthur didn’t share his answer, seeming to enjoy the way Sean was left puzzled by his statement, and strolled off to his tent. He looked around to see if anyone else had an answer, but the only other person there was a sleeping Uncle and drunk Reverend. But, he did notice Molly standing out of Dutch’s tent, staring into her pocket mirror with a pleased expression on her face.
He rose, and stumbled. Everything was black and spotty for a few seconds, and, having experienced this before, Sean knew to dig his heels into the ground and give it time to pass. It merely surprised him, but he wasn’t worried. This is grand. His internal monologue decided at once. I’m perfectly grand.

Finally, with clear vision, he strode over to the only Irish woman in camp. “Miss Molly O’Shea, aren’t you looking wonderful?” He flattered with a teasing tone, earning him both a scoff and a smile.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mister MacGuire?”
“Would you be so kind as to let me borrow that?” He held his hand out towards the mirror.

Confused and a little defensive, she slowly handed it over. Sean, wanting to prove her trust in a way while also using it in the way he planned too, held it up to his face and examined.

Arthur was right. Freckles, light orange and coating his face.

Caught off guard, he handed it back with a small “Oh,” sound. Molly looked as if she wanted to ask him what he was looking for, but he was already gone. It’s not like he’d never had freckles before, but he just didn’t expect such a quick change.

Sean was on his fourth drink, Javier’s strumming was dying down significantly as he grew tired, and almost everyone was asleep, not including Charles, who was on guard duty, and Arthur, who was most likely with him. The Irishman took another swing, and leant forward to poke at the fire. A feeling of regret was lingering around him, as he recalled yelling at Reverend excessively just after he had used Molly’s pocket mirror. Sure, he had almost tripped him up , but not by much.

For some reason, that had left him furious, and he pulled his leg back to give the man a kick, thankfully being interrupted by a sharp yell from Hosea to stop. That definitely didn’t help the fact everyone had stared in concern and interest. Concern for Reverend, most likely. He had also pushed past John about an hour later and earned himself a look from Lenny that genuinely left him upset and spiralling about the whole ordeal.

Why was he acting like this?! Surely the lack of food and sleep had nothing to do with it. He was pissed off because of the ache of hunger that he couldn’t do anything about, due to the fact he’d still rather stare than have toothache, and the tiredness he refused to cure, because he couldn’t stand the nightmares.

Sean heard steps, it was Javier putting his guitar down and getting ready to sleep. Oppositely, he forced his eyes and shifted on his seat on the log.

He was getting himself ready for a long night.

Chapter Text

The night had been long, so much longer than he expected, and Sean had felt every second of it. Multiple times, he had contemplated just letting the draining urge to sleep consume him, then remembered how the nightmares made sure it was never worth it. He’d wake up tired anyway, but that would be the least of his worries until later, as it would take a fair amount of time, an amount he was ashamed of, to recover from the aftermath of the bad dream. And did he ever really recover?

Sean had wandered around the sombre camp, feeling the cold air and pestering ache in his feet that helpfully stopped him from closing his eyes and accidentally submitting to sleep. He’d loop slowly around the camp for hours, stumbling in the maze of tenebrous obstacles and irritable light-sleepers. His mind wandered too, free to roam further than the camp, and always landing itself in his memories, from his recent and raw experience being the bounty that was hunted to the constantly replayed night he woke up to find British strangers in his home and the last person who loved and protected him, murdered.

There was more, there always was, like the way the adults mistreated him at reform school, that day he was taken in by the gang yet could’ve very well shot Dutch and Hosea, leaving those he cared about now vulnerable. But those thoughts were easier to cope with than the nightmares, he was more capable of attempting at shrugging them off.

When it was light enough to be considered morning, Sean tried his best to look busy and normal, despite the fact he was normally unbusy. He earned himself a nod of approval from Miss Grimshaw, who already had hot, black coffee in hand. That did actually boost his mood a little; she’d never nodded at him before. The camp needed more firewood, and he slowly approached the axe and pile of uncut logs, the hunger in his stomach nagging desperately for his attention, which it wouldn’t get. The constant, hour-lasting tooth-ache just wasn’t worth it, he had already decided. Besides, Dead-Eye MacGuire could easily handle a few days without eating!

Somehow, the axe looked a lot heavier and the job, which he hadn’t even started yet, seemed to appear more exhausted than it ever had. Trying to ignore it, his slightly tanned, worked hands reached for the axe and wrapped around it with forced strength he could barely muster. Hauling it backwards behind him with effort, getting ready to strike the insentient log, Sean was met with the feel of the dry, wooden handle slipping unstoppably out of his hands. Any attempt to grip it and save it from hitting the ground failed, due to the fact his muscles and movements just wouldn’t respond to him quick enough, an undeniable aura of weakness surging through his body.

Swaying on his feet, a helpless, anguished emotion overcame him as his vision blurred and a mix between a winded breath and grunt left his dry lips. “Shit, fuck, shite,” His thoughts were overloaded with panicked curses as he forced himself to breathe deeper. His senses slowly came back, and he heard someone behind him, who had clearly been watching.

A snicker.

Blushing in embarrassment and suddenly fueled with anger, he turned sharply to face Kieran, who looked equally embarrassed he had let that slip.
“Something funny to you, bastard O’Driscoll?” Sean demanded defensively, stepping closer to the dark-haired boy on his unstable legs, who was closer to the cliff than the camp, holding a saddle.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” He was quick to insist, fear in his tone and his eyes as it always was, as he stepped back in alarm. But now, the Irish outlaw was vexed, axe thankfully forgotten as he continued his approach.

His mood had swung quicker than a windchime caught in a tornado, exhaustion replaced with the unnecessary urge to beat Kieran’s face in for something easily ignorable. “I’ll make you sorry-,” He spat the words, making eye contact with the terrified figure in front of him as his hands tried to ball into a fist, before a command was ordered from nearby.

“Stop!”

Arthur, who looked as if he had just woken up, was neither panicked nor angry, rather amused at the whole ordeal,observing with his arms crossed. “Why you bein’ so nasty, Sean?” The rugged outlaw curiously questioned, smirking at the way the boy turned his anger to him. All three of them knew Sean wasn’t going to hurt Arthur.

“He needs a beating-,” He snarled, caught up in his rage over something so small.
“No, he doesn’t,” The interruption caused the Irishman to pause and try to think about the situation he had just created. The fact he dropped the axe in the first place because of how much he was harming his body, to the point it was losing its grip so easily, however, did not reappear in his mind.

Kieran took this opportunity to slink off, grateful he made it out of that mess with only a threat and a faster beating heart, while the oldest man continued to speak. “You’ve been acting strange lately, worse than Bill ‘n Micah. Sort it out,”

Sean looked like a scolded yet stubborn child as he did his best not to look ashamed, because he knew Arthur was right. He just couldn’t work out what was wrong with himself, acting so trigger-happy around camp, ready to fight anyone who got on his nerves, exactly like Bill and Micah. He too walked away, head down with grumbles, not caring if Arthur wasn’t finished with his lecture.

Heading straight for the crates in the lower section of camp, the young man ignored the few glances he got and stared down at his feet, which were aching every time they touched the floor. He just…didn’t understand why he was being so aggressive to people who had done nothing wrong, especially Arthur. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t him. Thinking back, he could’ve easily made a joke with Kieran about the whole thing, but he chose to make a scene and upset himself.

Sitting himself on the crate away from the other members, who were just now waking up, he placed his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He stared forward at the and sulked.

Sean didn’t hear Lenny approaching, he was too distracted by the way his head pounded like there was something frantic and furious trapped in there. His stomach was now cramping from hunger, and the dizziness felt like he was being spun wildly. At this point, his feet were also on the crate, as he nestled his face into his knees and breathed as deeply as he could, desperate for some comfort or pain relief. His eyes were drifting between open and shut, but he knew this pain wouldn’t cease so he could sleep, which he was uniquely grateful for.

“Woah,” The voice made him jump as his legs shot off the crate and he desperately tried to move back into a normal sitting position, which didn’t work and looked rather pathetic. His muscles were aching and didn’t move his limbs where he wanted them to be. This was all too confusing for him, his body had never acted like this before.

Slowly, he inhaled deeply and looked over at Lenny, who had placed himself on the other crate next to him, without taking his eyes off Sean once.
“You ain’t having a good day today, huh?” His tone was soft, sympathetic, as if he were talking to a child.
“Nah,” He grumbled shortly in reply.

There were a few beats of silence. Lenny spoke up again. “Gunna tell me what’s going on?” In response, he tightened his lips together and swallowed thickly. His stomach lurched. Still trying to ignore his forehead’s constant throbbing pain with no avail, he spoke up again. “Nothing to tell. I’m in perfect health,” The last part was meant to be a joke, but a tone of sarcasm slipped in somehow.

The younger man suddenly looked irritated. “Well, that’s got to be one of the most unbelievable lies you’ve told,” He leant himself closer to him. More silence filled the air, this time unwelcome and uncomfortable, as he did not respond. “Dammit Sean..,” Lenny suddenly huffed and rose from the crate. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’ll never admit to needing help, let alone ask for it. I’ll say what I said before. I can’t do it, I can’t help you, if you won’t let me try.”

Sean didn’t need help. He could cope with the pain alone, it wasn’t like it could get any worse anyway. But, some part of him didn’t want Lenny to leave, as if he had the energy or courage to say the words to stop him. That part of him hurt the most when he looked up and studied the other’s exasperated expression, knowing he had caused that feeling by shutting him out.
“I don’t need any help,” He insisted with a weak voice yet strong eye contact. That was enough for Lenny to groan in anger at him, turning his back and walking away while the Irishman stayed where he was. Everything hurt. Shamelessly, he pulled his legs back where they were so he could nestle into them again. He had ruined things with his best friend, he knew it.

Why did the fact he didn’t need help make the other man so upset with him?

Since he technically hadn’t done any work that day and still wanted to look busy despite the fact he had been sat, hunched over alone for nearly an hour, Sean dragged himself to the sacks, everything else already done. He felt absolutely exhausted, but decided there was nothing like a bit of work to wake you up. Must be why he’s usually so sleepy.

He did his best to ignore his brain and muscles begging him to stop and let them rest, keeping his eyes, while they were clear, on the chore. John was already there, about to pick up a sack until he looked up.

The dark-haired man watched him as he approached, and Sean felt a weird amount of anxiety, knowing that he could still be rightfully angry about being pushed yesterday. But, to the Irishman's surprise, he seemed relaxed and gave him a nod. Wanting to help, Marston mumbled a “Lemme get that for you,” as he bent to grab one of the sacks. He grabbed one that was empty and held it upright with the intent to ‘fold’ it and put it to the side, without a single idea of what he’d just triggered.

Sean froze. He was transported.

One of Ike’s boys, the short spiky red-head, sneered at him, watching him writhe and struggle against his restraints, like a muzzled dog. The deck was dry, the sun just as hot as it had been the rest of his time at the hands of them, beating down on him with what felt like all its might. Though it was nothing compared to the other irritations around his body. Shamefully, he tried his best to ignore the restless stinging that urged him to scratch at his inner thighs. It didn’t take a genius to work out being left in his own urine has had it’s disagreements with his rough yet sensitive skin.

“Where the fuck are you bastards taking me? Huh? You can’t run, they’ll come for me!” He yelled at them, though no one, not even him, was convinced the Van der Linde gang was going to waste their time getting him out of this. Still sitting up against the dock wall, he threw a worthless kick at the boy, that was easily ignored.

The rest of the dirty fuckers were relaxing inside the boat, drinking and playing cards and reveling in the fact they were finally going to get paid for their ‘hard labour’ of taking that cocky bastard to the law, getting paid, getting drunk and watching him hang.

Sean watched with curiosity and fear that he wouldn’t admit as the boy opened the door and asked for something, which he couldn’t hear through his thick southern accent and partying inside. Now what could they possibly be doing to him.

The young bounty hunter turned to face him, holding an empty sack and more rope. Without even giving MacGuire a second to work out his plan, he quickly crossed the short distance between him, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him forward with such a tight grip the Irishman could feel his gritty finger latching and sinking into his skin. He was thrown against the floor, landing on his face with the sound of air being forced from his lungs.

“Fucker..,” He croaked out after a deep and pained breath, looking up at his capture with a toxic glare, who watched with a cruel yet amused expression. Within a second, the spiky boy had grabbed him again, pulling him up as he grabbed the sack. Sean spit in his face and watched it hit directly in his eye. He felt a little bit of pride for his aim.

“You dirty goddamn freak!” His capture hissed in anger and disgust as he dropped the sack and wiped his eye. “You ain’t touch, you is a pussy, I know what you is!”
The Irishman attempted to spit again, but there was barely any saliva in his mouth to do so, since they stopped the whole ‘too much water’ method.

Swiftly, the sack was snatched from the deck again and MacGuire was dropped like a worthless toy, smacking his head against the deck and wheezing out a grunt. Within seconds it was being dragged over his head, and, as he realised what they were doing, he began to move his head away as best he could with being flat on his back on the floor, unable to get up.

“Get the fuck off me, you bastard!” Seam demanded, his yell muffled and ignored. He felt the rope snake around his neck, likely there to keep the sack from letting him get free, and he was now in a flurry of panic. “Stop! Please-,” The beg had unexpectedly slipped out, and his cheeks grew red. But not from embarrassment.

If the Irishman thought it couldn’t get any warmer before, he was so wrong. Startling him, the rope stopped weaving around his neck and instead was yanked and tightened by the other man, forcing out a surprised whimper as he kept thrashing.

It was too dark and too warm and too itchy. There wasn’t enough air to fill his lungs, which kept demanding more and more as he panicked and yelled. “Please! Please! Take it-I want it off-,” Sean just kept begging and repeating before he was silenced by his own wounded gasp.

His stomach had been brutally stamped on, his abdominal surging with agony as acidic bile flooded his throat and his limbs convulsed in shock. He choked and coughed, trails of unseen vomit dripping down his cracked lips and chin as tears slipped from his green eyes, hidden by the sack.

He barely had time to breath in before he was attacked again, this time being kicked in his side. A yell of anguish left his body before he helplessly sobbed in pain, his side throbbing and aching from the persistent, torturous throbbing and gnawing he felt there.

MacGuire’s muffled wails and cries were mocked as the bounty hunters' dirty boots kicked him around mercilessly, like he weighed nothing and was worth even less. It felt endless, the capture didn’t seem to tire or bore of the way Sean shook and weakly tried to shuffle away like a scared, blind cat after each blow across his body. It was only when he was kicked right in the nose did the door of the boat open and he was finally spared.

“Truman, enough of that shit!” One yelled at the spiky-haired boy. “I can’t fuckin’ concentrate on my card game with the bastard crying! How much you think wes gon’ get paid if he dead or fucked in the head anyway?!”

Truman sheepishly looked at Sean, who was at the very front of the boat now, shaking and laying there, then shrugged.
“Get in here,” The bounty hunter commanded with a frustrated tone, and the boy obeyed.

Finally, Sean was able to breathe in between his cries, able to process what had just happened. But the panic of being masked in the darkness, feeling the dry, itchy air in his lungs instead of the freshness he was used to, feeling the burn of the sun though his blood-stained clothes, was still there and increasing. Sickness encased his stomach, and he was terrified he was going to boke inside his sack of imprisonment and drown in his vomit.

There was no point even trying to escape the ropes around his wrists anymore, all energy felt as if it had been spilled out of him hit by hit. The Irishman was also certain he felt himself bleeding somewhere on his chest, like the boot had managed to break his skin.

His body only moving to breathe, he cried bitterly, wishing they’d kill him already.

Chapter Text

John’s aching arms were still outstretched, his face twisting into irritation at the fact Sean wasn’t taking the sack he’d been polite enough to hold out and instead just standing like he’d seen a ghost, despite the fact the Irishman had pushed him the other day rudely. Meanwhile, Sean’s heart was racing like a spooked stallion fleeing from a gunfight, slamming against his chest in a way that winded his breath out of him and recreated a feeling of overflowing his veins with speeding blood. Marston had been horrifically transformed in a second when he held that up, his scars fading, his skin paling, his hair reddening as he became Truman.

In shock, MacGuire stepped back, tranced as the image faded just as quickly as it had popped up, leaving him to see the now dark-haired man drop the sack at his feet with a breathless grunt. “Why didn’t you take the goddamn sack, Sean?” He questioned, hissing over his aching arms and glaring. But the ginger man didn’t have an answer; he couldn’t process what had been asked of him as he fought the embarrassment and confusion. “The fuck just happened…the fuck is wrong with me…?” Internally, he was overwhelming himself with these questions.

It was all becoming too much for him, the trauma and lack of routine and starvation…but he just felt helpless. Like no one would understand what had really happened, why he was doing this to himself... All they’d see was a weak, pathetic, stupid man who couldn’t handle his own problems.

By the time Sean had got his head right and dragged the stupid sack to its destination, with an extreme amount of struggle with its full weight that he’d never normally had, everyone else had already done their chores and spared him no curious glances. He did his best to ignore them.

The sun was now melting into the horizon and spilling its orange glow across the sky, small and light angelic clouds drifting freely in their habitat of infinite movement above the slowing camp. MacGuire rested himself on the log, staring into the glowing, amber fire and running his faintly shaking fingers up down his thighs, lips tight and breathing controlled. His sage-coloured eyes observed the way the flames intertwined with each other, dancing against the soft breeze in twirls and shrinks. He was absentmindedly absorbing the warmth, letting it ease his shakes and temporarily comfort his mind.

He could feel his heavy eyelids being weighed down as they longed to connect with each other, and everything melting away. Rest wanted to reach its arms out and pull himself out of his body, drifting him away to an unpredictable place where he was no longer in control of defending himself. That place was where his fears were smartest and strongest, most skilled in their illusions of plaguing him, breaking him, punishing him. But there was no fight here, not anymore, and his body began to fall forward as submitted.

“Woah!”

The firm, slightly panicked hand hitting his chest and pulling Sean back up to sit definitely startled him hard, to the point he had bolted upright. Lenny looked at him curiously, concerned. How he always seemed to look these days. These days…it had been two days.

“Sorry, you were headin’ right for the fire…,” The darker man apologised, and Sean felt grateful for the scare.
“Ah, thank you, Mr Summers. Stupid me,” He chuckled. Lenny chuckled back. A beat of cosy silence passed.

“I still think you need my help,” Inspecting MacGuire’s expression, he said. Could Sean even keep denying it? He met the younger man’s gaze and, despite his cramping stomach, heavy eyelids, and nausea, he couldn’t help admiring how Lenny always looked so handsome in the firelight, his dark eyes shining with the reflection of bright sparks.

They both felt those sparks inside themselves when they looked at each other, warm and fluttering and bouncing in every part of their bodies, yet Lenny had the urge to reach out and cup Sean’s face, pull him close and pry his troubles out of him with comforting and encouraging whispers, so he had full access to care and heal the man.

Sean had the urge to melt into him, open his mouth and let everything spill out, words and woes and tears. He wanted to feel those lips against his skin, those soft words fading into his ears and shivering down his spine as his strong, rough hands found their way to his hips and his back, encasing him in a hug.

But neither could act on these, not here, not with all the curious eyes that seemed to glue themselves onto anything that didn’t concern them. Judgemental wasn’t the right word, neither was ignorant, more like gossipy and just as clueless as they were.

MacGuire tore his eyes away from the admirable figure next to him, and let a soft sigh leave his mouth as he fought his own eyes open. His stomach cramped with the furious urge to have the food it needed to keep Sean moving on his two legs, as did his aching head, needing its rest it had been deprived off. What could he say to Lenny? I can’t have your help? I don’t need help? I want you to hold me as if we were soulmates born just for each other because I might just believe that’s what we are? He couldn’t say that and scare him off so cruelly.

“I’m fine,” He lied through his teeth. This time, Lenny was silent. He didn’t call him out for this, or demand the truth, it felt more like he was defeated, exhausted himself, trying to help someone who wouldn’t have it.

“I’m right here,” Is what he reassured instead, leaning his head on Sean’s shoulder in a way that ignited something inside them both and subtly finding his hand. It was like their fingers were perfectly designed to be connected together, and it made both boys realise how much they needed each other.

Even when Lenny drifted off, the Irishman felt his own emotion becoming overwhelmed. How could it have taken so long for him to realise this is what he wanted? That he hadn’t been staring at Lenny and daydreaming about their lives together out of pure curiosity? He had been practically revelling in those common moments where he was making Lenny grin and laugh and ramble on about things that made him happy in a way he’d never done for anyone else.

He would stay awake, but this time, it was for a different reason. If anyone wanted to stare or point or laugh, he’d be conscious to see it and give them the mouthful they deserved. The darker man looked so vulnerable, yet he trusted Sean enough to fall asleep on him, and he would never forget the prideful yet loving feeling that gave him.

Charles sat himself on the chair in front of them, and rested his eyes on the pair. The defensive urge did not emerge from him at this, because MacGuire knew it was different with him. He didn’t share the same gossiping trait as the others, nor did he seem ignorant or even unknowing about their situation. So instead, he kept studying Lenny protectively like he wished someone could still do for him.

Sean thought everyone else was asleep. But now he wasn’t so sure, as his neck hairs stood on end and his eyes were wide with fear, no longer at the risk of closing. His breathing was fast and sharp, shoulder’s heaving so heavily he was a bit worried Lenny’s head was going to slip right off it. Body shivering with fear, he almost let out a cry at another icy whisper of his name, fading in so close to his ear it travelled through his senses. It can’t have been a nightmare, he hadn’t fallen asleep.

Someone was right beside him, whispering his name in an unrecognisable voice that left him so paralysed and sick with terror he didn’t even feel like himself. Whipping his head to the side, he was met with pure darkness, the absence of the entity he was so sure was there.

The whisper didn’t come again. Instead, he felt Lenny stir on his shoulder with a disturbed whimper. Surprised, Sean looked at him, full focus on him as he did not notice his sense of reality drift or his surroundings darken to a point it was unnatural. Lenny’s eyes opened, and it all began too fast.

The darker boy began to wail and yell in pain with a voice that didn’t quite match his usual one, leaving MacGuire in pure, helpless shock at the suddenness. He couldn’t make out what or why, only that he had to help Lenny, who was now writhing unrealistically and clawing awfully at his skin.

Pale hands rushed out to grab at him and stop it, but all his strength was gone, watching as the younger man, to Sean’s absolute horror, scratched and peeled his own skin off, coating his face in oozing red blood. They both screamed. “Lenny stop! Please stop! What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!”

His begs fell on deaf ears as the other just clawed harder and harder, bawling so hard without an explanation the Irishman was surprised no one else had woken up. This was foul, blood was everywhere, on both their clothes and hands as he fought to stop the other from hurting himself. “You need to stop! Stop it! Let go!”

“Wake up! Wake up, it’s okay! Wake up, it’s alright, it’s alright,”

Sean jolted, like he had been drenched in ice cold water, gasping as someone, directly in front of him, grabbed his wrists. It was Lenny, who stared into his eyes with his own, concerned and big. “You’re okay,” He whispered. “Just an awful dream,” They both felt shaken, since MacGuire must have been sleep talking, letting the darker boy hear everything. He must’ve heard him begging him to stop, not a nice thing to hear without the context, despite the fact it wouldn’t make it much better anyway.

The shock faded quickly, replaced with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep..,” He paused after saying that, and Lenny’s eyebrows raised up in confusion.
“Why would you be sorry for that?” He questioned lightly.
“I don’t know, fuck I meant..,sorry for waking you up?”
“Nah, you didn’t wake me..,”

It was light now, the sunrise lively and warm, yet Sean didn’t feel lively or warm. He felt humiliated and red-faced. Stupid goddamn nightmare, he thought. Why the fuck would Lenny claw his own face off? He should’ve known it wasn’t real. Tired, he studied the younger man's appearance, which looked soft yet sharp and well-rested. How he wanted to press his lips to his…hold him close and feel his tongue move against his own…

But he didn’t, because he had no idea if Lenny wanted that right now, or at all.

“You okay?” Lenny asked as his hands slipped off Sean’s wrist, who nodded quickly in response. His stomach cramped hard in hunger, but he fought not to show it on his face. “Are you sure?” He asked again.

“I’m okay,” Sean repeated, lying through the gaps in his teeth.
“Well…tell me if you’re not. Please,” The other pleaded, then walked away after getting nothing but another nod.

The rest of the morning was hard, as Lenny was on guard duty and wasn’t there for Sean to talk to, leaving him to try and be as helpful as he could on about 2 hours sleep and absolutely no food. He was certain nobody else had seen their whole charade, but the anxiety swelled in his stomach like a bug anyway, making him feel ill, because that was just what he needed on top of everything else.

Lightheaded, he had stepped on Miss Grimshaw’s foot, who yelled that he was an “Clumsy bastard,”, which had left a lingering feeling of offence and sadness that never would’ve come from such a remark on one of his usual days. The Irishman had continued to mope about, knocking into Bill by accident and earning himself a shove from the especially irritable man. He had come back from a robbery empty handed and missing a gun, so everyone except for Sean it seemed knew to stay away from him.

“Will you watch it, you dumb bastard?!” Bill snarled, so close to the smaller man that he could smell the stench of yesterday’s whisky.

MacGuire did not have a comeback, nor did he have any energy to defend himself or put an amused or even fake smile on. Unusually, he stared up at the man, eyes big and lip quivering. For some reason, all the ability inside him to hide the tears or be ashamed at crying wasn’t responding, and was replaced by the alarming thoughts screaming “Bill yelled at me…Bill yelled at me…I’m so upset about this,”

Immediately, he turned swiftly on his heels and marched away, head down and sniffling loudly for attention, reflecting a child, leaving Bill and the girls in their wagon right in front of the ordeal, curious and jaw dropped. They had never seen Sean like this! Acting worse than Jack! Karen stifled a laugh, but what else could she do but giggle at this new, strange attention act he was putting on?

Thankfully, no tears actually came out and it felt like his body had just played a trick on him too, making him think he was about to cry when he wasn’t. He rested himself on the rock facing the outside of camp, his light eyes scanning for Lenny or his bright orange, cute in Sean’s opinion, bandana. When he couldn’t see it, he assumed he was on the other side of camp and, for another strange, strange reason he did not know, that made tears well in his eyes again.

But, there was no time for tears that wouldn’t actually fall, as the sound of a wagon barrelling down the path filled the air. An ambush?! “Someone get over and help me with this! Ah Sean, maybe your lazy ass can do it,” Nope. Just Arthur and John returning with supplies from Valentine. Shrugging the lazy ass remark off as best he could, he approached.

Arthur handed Sean supplies, who handed it to John, who ran like a blind ostrich with two left feet to Mr Pearson’s wagon and back again to grab the next load, and the system was working okay for the first two bags before the ginger man started to get confused. He had no energy for this, and was overwhelmed by lightheadedness. The sun was beating down with its UV waves like the Irish Sea does in a storm, blinding him, which really didn’t help.

The blonde outlaw shoved something into his hands, which was heavy and winded the breath out of his slightly. Struggling, he shakily placed it into John’s arms, who snatched it and ran like it weighed a quarter of Jack. He watched, surprised, until a bag dropping behind him shocked him out of the daze. Sean hadn’t been quick enough to catch it, rather more sluggish as he watched it fall.
This enraged the already irritated Arthur, who had been trying to get the job quicker so he could see Charles and tell him about the difficult shopkeeper who had been chatty, slow and stupid, who roared in Sean’s face.

“Of course it would be you to fuck it up, you little shit!”

Sean stared at him, frozen. His eyes widened and his bottom lip quivered aggressively. The bigger man barely had a second to process what was now happening before the other began to shake. A sob erupted from his body loudly, along with the broken, stuttered statement. “I was only trying to help!”

His voice was a much higher pitch as he gasped and cried a little harder. Arthur was absolutely stunned, hands up in defence as his mouth and eyes were open in shock. What…was happening? That was the question in every member's head as they turned and stared, one after the other. Sean had not noticed this, he was more embarrassed and panicked about how he couldn’t stop himself from shaking and crying.

Tears blinded him as his bottled up emotions saw their exit and poured out like a freshly smashed dam. People approached and he wanted to run in humiliation at the whole situation he seemed to have made. A hand, smaller yet firmer than Arthur’s, gripped his shoulder and began to pull him away. What he couldn’t see was Hosea giving the onlookers a stern look that simply said “Do. Not. Follow. Nothing just happened.” and could not be mistaken as anything else.

MacGuire forced his shaky, aching feet to move where they were being led, unable to believe what he had just done. “Sorry, I am sorry Mr Matthews, I’m so sorry!” He rambled and repeated with a few more sobs as Hosea walked him to the area that overlooked the cliffs, hand less firm but not leaving his shoulder for a second until they were away from the nosy, dispersing group.

Sean sat down, the older man doing the same, watching him closely, as he sniffled and breathed in heavily and shook. “I don’t understand-what’s wrong with-me,” He gasped and trailed off into more sobs, feeling that same hand patting his shoulder again.
“Take your time, son. It can see it’s not your fault,” The white-haired man cooly reassured.

Interrupted by sudden footsteps, Hosea defensively turned and Sean looked up before both relaxing at seeing it was just Lenny, who immediately knelt to Sean’s level and put a hand on his cheek. “The girls told me what happened,” He informed, causing an annoyed look to wash over the older gentleman’s face. Already gossiping.
Sean cried into Lenny’s touch, leaning his head into it. He couldn’t believe he had wanted this for so long and now he’d got it in a way he was not proud of at all, more embarrassed and prideless. They were being observed by Hosea, which they did not mind as he meant well and watched out of concern. He was old enough to know the crying man wasn’t just sobbing over being called a little shit.

The youngest man didn’t shush him, rather pulled him into a hug and let him get out these emotions. After a minute, MacGuire began to calm himself, so Lenny pulled away and cupped his face, studying it. Sean had unignorable eyebags, deep and dark against his pale skin. His eyes were strongly bloodshot, he shook in a way that screamed something wasn’t right, like needed Lenny there to steady him as he swayed. His pupils were larger than they’d ever been.

“Sean…aside from those two hours last night, when was the last time you actually slept?” The darker boy's sharp and concerned questioning attracted Hosea’s attention again, who looked equally as desired to know. He couldn’t lie anymore. He couldn’t keep this up.

“Three days,” He croaked out. His stomach cramped in hungry, as Lenny suddenly gasped.
“What?! Why?” Demanding, he looked a little angry.
“The nightmares! It was never worth it!” Sean began to cry again. “But I can’t do it anymore, the tiredness and the hunger,”

Better to tell them now, he decided.

Those words had Hosea shooting up, putting a hand on MacGuire’s shoulder.
“What do you mean? When was the last time you ate? Huh?!” He questioned immediately.
“Four or five days!” Sean sobbed out loudly. “My teeth hurt so bad!”

The pair had never wanted to hit someone and hold them close at the same time as much as they had in that moment. “Why didn’t you say something? Why would you put yourself through that?”

But he did not answer, just cried and shook his head, feeling like a shameful, berated child. He’d never dreamt of crying like this to another member. “You are going to eat.” Lenny instructed. “Listen, we will get you something soft, and you will eat it.”

The idea of eating interested the starving man, but the thought of tooth-ache did not. However, Lenny was persistent, fueled by this new alarming knowledge, he strode off to make a can of soup. Thank god for Arthur’s restock.

MacGuire waited with Hosea, knees to his chest as his tears stopped.

“He tried to help you before, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. How do you know that?”

The older man smiled. “Nothing gets past me in this camp,” He took a breath in. “The world is a selfish, cruel place. You and I both know that, don’t we? People are always trying to help themselves instead of others. So many suffer in silence and are left as they are so…it’s quite the rare occurrence to be offered help without askin’ for it. Especially when you need it... Sean, when someone cares, when someone wants to help, for the love of God, accept it. Because if you don’t, well that’s on you. I know after what happened to you, it’s been hard to believe, but this camp is filled with people who do care. Even goddamn Bill and Strauss care. But especially Lenny. Now, he’s going to help you now, so I don’t want to hear any protesting.”

Sean listened to the speech, mouth tight and eyes wide and interested. Hosea was right. God, he had been so stupid and stubborn out of fear, convincing himself Dead-Eye MacGuire could handle what was essentially torture. He was hurting himself, ruining his mental state and risking what he had with Lenny over a dumb, dumb idea that never should’ve spiralled into what it had.

He pondered over those words, staring at the view ahead until Lenny brought him his soup. Why couldn’t he have just asked for that in the first place? Because Dead-Eye MacGuire was a little parasite that plagued him with lies and bad thoughts that forced him to neglect his basic needs until he broke. He ate as you would expect someone who had not eaten in days would, messy and fast and focussed.

He cleared his bowl, ignoring the slight toothache as Hosea took it away.

“Now for sleep,” Lenny said, grabbing Sean’s arm and helping him to his shaky feet. The relief of no hunger was a welcome feeling, as the toothache took itself away too. To his surprise, John approached the pair. “Hosea said- I mean, you can take my tent if you don’t wanna, um, be disturbed,”

They thanked him and walked into the dark tent, climbing onto the small yet comfortable camp-bed together. It was an unspoken decision that Lenny would be there to immediately comfort him if the nightmares came, wrapping his arms around the older man and pulling him close in an embrace. He barely had time to really appreciate how warm and loving the whole gesture felt, before he finally gave sleep the freedom to take it into its own embrace like it had been waiting to do.

Sean had to stop. He had to stop crying. He was sitting on his sofa-bed, head in his hands, desperately trying to stifle his tears before his da got back to the room.

It was late, darkness soaking the room and all of Boston as the moon rose to replace the sun. He had been out all day, strolling the streets looking for jobs or ways to amuse himself, since he was on a strict ‘No Stealing’ rule he was determined to follow. He wasn’t a fool, he knew attention from lawmen was the last thing the pair needed, unless they wanted to be chased away again.

Absent-mindedly, he had bumped into a furious Southern man and apologised immediately, which did not save him from being pushed aside harshly. A group of street kids had mocked his accent, and tried to rob him, he had tripped and torn his jeans, lost 20 cents, got sunburnt, earnt no money and resulted in crying bitterly alone in the dark.

Sean missed home and almost everything about it. He missed his mammy so badly, he hugged a cushion and pretended he heard her voice. He missed his bed and the breakfast table and their cottage and little wanders around the town.

His da wouldn’t be back in the inn for another hour, so he let himself sob harder. He fell into a spiral of tears, upsetting himself more and more. The door opened, and he jumped yet could not stop crying. Darragh was back early, and immediately heard the wails as soon as the door opened.

“Oisin, oh Oisin, come here,” Feeling sympathy for his dear son, he sat right next to him and let him cry, pulling him close and stroking his hair. Oisin, his middle name, was what they called him in comfort, like when his mammy woke up and found him, 5 years old with an awful fever, begging and crying to be let into their room.

They both had awful days, worn-out and grieving, so he would never shame his son for needing to cry, God knows he’d be concerned if he didn’t. America was not a welcoming place like he thought it was, Sean had learnt.

Wrapped around the man who loved him, fought for him, understood him, cared for him so deeply, he cried himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

The sun’s morning light shone freely throughout the camp, reminding them yet again summer was here, like the unmissable orb miles away needed anymore attention. Using its power, it gave every member, sleeping or awake, the comforting warmth to assist with the usual morning groaning and laziness. Whether that pushed them to lie back down or get up depended on the person, and how fast Miss Grimshaw got to them.

Sean felt the warmth beating through the fabric so strongly, he couldn’t help but open his eyes. It was light, yet darker than what he was used to. He gave an attempt to move so he could rub his half-closed eyes and maybe even brush a bit of his sweaty hair off his forehead, but suddenly felt restrictions holding him down.

These ‘restrictions’ were arms, thick and large and providing even more warmth for the Irishman than the sun was, but that was only around his torso, he could feel his legs were trapped too. Stifling a groan, he raised his neck and saw legs around his legs, something he’d never actually experienced before. His eyes widened like saucers when his mind fully awoke and realised where he was, why he was there, and debatably more importantly, who he was with.

Like an octopus that gripped its prey close, Lenny had well and truly warped and tangled and wrapped himself around Sean, most likely an unconscious sleep act. Soft snores vibrated in his ears and tickled his neck so hard he didn’t know whether to flinch away or chuckle quietly. Embarrassment flooded his body, turning him red. He could not believe he had cried and made an absolute fool of himself in front of everyone! God, how he wanted the cot to swallow him up. Then again, he didn’t. How long had he been waiting for this, the sensation of someone, especially Lenny, cuddled up to him?!

MacGuire didn’t know what to do, or to say. His throat was drier than a book buried in the desert, and a few beads of sweat rolled down his chest under his shirt. He’d have to wake Lenny up before they both overheated to death.

“Len. Lenny,” He grumbled out softly. “Lenny, you’re cookin’ me here…,”

There was a small smirk on his thin lips as he watched the other raise his head up from the crook of his neck, his unkempt coils messy and flat on one side from where he’d slept on it. And the sleep was meant to be for Sean! Pale green eyes met confused earthy brown ones for a few seconds, Lenny’s expression dazed. He was right above him.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” Lenny suddenly rambled as he moved back to sit up. They had…literally slept together.
Sean replied quickly, “It’s alright, kept me warm,” He kept his smile in a hope to ease both their embarrassments.
“Yeah, too warm! I just-I didn’t mean to trap you like that…,” The younger man blushed hard. Neither of them had actually slept with someone else in that way before, seeking comfort instead of intimacy. They found it…awkward, but not bad.

“Let’s, I mean, we should probably get outta here and let John have his tent back,” Lenny decided for them both.
Almost as soon as they stepped out of the dark, overheating tent, the sun greeted them the same way as it did everyone else, by blinding them for a good 5 and a half seconds. Not to mention Sean had barely taken another step and brought his arm up to shield his eyes before a blur of a person slipped speedily behind them both, entering the sweltering cave they had just left.

He glanced over at Lenny, who looked back over sheepishly, but with a smile. John apparently hadn’t missed sleeping in the dirt. The Irishman didn’t smile.

He could feel eyes on them both, more nosy than ‘just curious’. A feeling of dread and anxiety started to bubble in his stomach at the thought of trying to pretend everything was normal to his peers, who both knew it wasn’t and were waiting for more fuel to add to the fire. Good grief, they liked to gossip, Sean thought hypocritically.

MacGuire began to walk towards the coffee pot, feeling like he was going to need seven cups. Familiar hunger spiked in his stomach, and he decided just to wait until stew time, like everyone else. As he grabbed a rusted cup, he was aware of Lenny next to him, hovering while grabbing his own cup. It was unsurprising, what they had done wasn’t big but it sure as hell wasn’t small either. No wonder he wanted to talk about it. But he…just had no idea what to say.

They made eye contact as Sean sipped the bitter warmth slowly. It was…a weird situation. One that made guilty little butterflies flutter against his nerves because, when he noticed Lenny’s raised eyebrows and unamused expression, he knew he was only making it unfairly worse. The younger man had only been trying to help him, no, he had helped him.

Not to mention, he wasn’t the kind-of man to take the disrespect he was currently getting without so much as a word.

“Sean,” He said, like a reminder he was there.
“Hmm?”
“Are we gunna talk about it? Because I don’t want one of those situations where you avoid me, you know I hate that!” His voice wasn’t shouting, it was the same volume, but this time with an unmissable warning tone. Sean shuffled from one foot to the other, thinking of what to say. Silence wasn’t an answer.

Lenny sighed heavily, and for a panicked moment, Sean thought he was going to leave.

“Alright, I get it. I’ll give you time, but we should go out again later, because you will talk to me, here or there,” He decided, and the Irishman was relieved at how direct he was about how he felt and what he wanted to do, even if it made him feel like an arsehole for beating around the bush all the time.

Sean was pretty sure they could drown in their own tension before he decided to bring it up himself.

No one had pestered him to work yet.

The camp had cooled significantly, the sun hidden behind a large cloud. They were all grateful for it. Sean was especially grateful for how much better he felt, even if it wasn’t perfect. He had even made himself some stew! He felt like he could actually walk in a straight line again, a feeling he’d lost an unnatural amount of times in his life.

He approached the girls, bored and ready to be plastered with questions about yesterday. No one had actually mentioned it to him, courtesy of Hosea, but he knew those gossips couldn’t help themselves.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourites. How you doing, girls?” Sean greeted in his usual, half-flirty voice, observing as Karen repaired a sock, Mary-Beth read and Tilly scrubbed Bill’s shirt.
“Hello, Sean,” Miss Gaskill replied, looking up from her romance with bright eyes and a smile.

“Fine. What about you, Sean?” Karen responded to his question, though hers felt more like a genuine question than a greeting as she emphasised the ‘you’. His moment of thought, then shrug made it clear to her he’d talk about it, just not in front of the other two. She understood this, and rose to walk with him, leaving her sewing on her seat. The girls who had been left stared at the pair and raised their eyebrows.

MacGuire’s feet ached slightly as they strolled together, heading for the outskirts of camp where they’d be alone, since Javier on guard duty was thankfully on the other side near the more-used paths. The silence was quite comfortable, the breeze cool and both of them sober and calm. Sean didn’t know whether he was supposed to see this as romantic or not, they weren’t really a couple, no matter how hard he had tried to make that happen in the past. He had accepted before he got kidnapped she didn’t want him, then it felt different in this camp when they slept together, then it felt different again after everything with Lenny.

“I’ll ask again. Are you okay, Sean?” Karen’s voice was calm, giving him this opportunity to speak.
“I think so. I think I am now, thanks to Lenny,” He saw her smile at the mention of his name, in more of a mischievous, knowing way.

“Oh yes, Lenny,” Teasing him, she met the Irishman’s embarrassed gaze. Was she jealous, maybe?

“Miss Jones, I love you, I did, I do,” He fumbled over his words, and the blonde woman just shook her head softly. “I thought I did that night, but he, he is…I don’t know,” A sigh escaped Sean’s lips. The smirk was still on her lips.

“I ain’t an idiot, and I ain’t angry. You love Lenny more than me, and I say good. He’s smart, miles better than me at emotions, and seems like he can really…love you back,” Karen genuinely seemed happy about this, and the nervousness inside him began to fade. “I ain’t gonna go into it, but I can’t love anyone right now, I don’t even know when I’ll be able to again. But he can, so go for it!”

“And if he doesn’t like me back-,”

Karen literally snorted at that. They’d slept next to each other out of their own accord…twice.

“Oh, okay,” Sean huffed at her amusement. “I see how it is. Do you think my struggle is funny? I’m a very confused man right now, Miss Jones!”
“You are a blind man! He goddamn loves you, Sean MacGuire!”

She reminded him of Mary-Beth right now, all excited over romance.

But still, it got him all excited about this potential romance too, and he was practically buzzing while waiting for Lenny to say it was time to go to their spot, even if they had to talk about yesterday.

Lenny took a deep breath as he opened the camp's latest newspaper. Unlike the last one, where Sean got his own little section dedicated to the fact he bullied the shit out of his bounty hunters, pissed every single person involved off then escaped, it wasn’t all that interesting. Cornwall…can infestation…a famous guy tripped and died…nothing really worth the read. He couldn’t help the way his eyes kept sliding off the dry page to look at what everyone else was doing.

The sun was directly above, but thankfully they were being shielded by a large and white cloud. He didn’t need any more sunburn. He couldn’t see his Irish anywhere, but he saw Hosea around the fire and decided that he was the next best thing. He liked the older man, miles more than he liked Dutch. Hosea was a listener, along with being such a caring, wise yet amusing man that he couldn’t fathom that there were people in camp like Micah and Bill who did not enjoy his company.

“Lenny,” He was greeted with a smile as soon as he sat next to him, shifting a little on the log and staring into the dim fire.
“Hi, Hosea,”
“It was a nice thing you did,” The white-haired man declared with an almost mischievous tone.

“Y-you mean in the tent with Sean?” Now that was something Lenny hadn’t really got an explanation for. It was all in the heat of the moment, and even when he was lying awake in that tent, feeling Sean against him and watching his sleeping face, he didn’t find himself questioning why until he woke up the next morning.

The young man had been suspecting that he was overstepping when he was demanding to know if the other was okay, but he was really just concerned. His concern for someone he loved would have him ‘overstep’ off a cliff if it came to it.

“Sure, in the tent with Sean. But also with bringing him food,” Hosea continued, and it felt like he had more to say, so Lenny waited. “I always thought he did suit you,”
“What?!” He replied with a jumpy tone. Sean suited him?! Sean…suited him.

The elder man spluttered a little at that. “Oh please, I’m not quite blind yet. Even if you two are,”
“What-what do you mean?” Internally, Lenny screamed at himself. So now he was blind AND stupid.

A new voice interrupted them both. “What, you need it spelling out?” Arthur chuckled. “That fool likes you-”
“Don’t call him that-”
“And you like him, somehow!”

Lenny’s face was burning harder than manor house after a visit from a MacGuire as he realised he had not been the slightest bit subtle at all, they had even worked it out before he did! And with the way they were carrying on, even the ones who hadn’t noticed had now been informed. A groan of embarrassment slipped out as he buried his head in his sweaty palms and felt a hand pat his shoulder. That wasn’t fair, you can’t pat someone's shoulder while also being the reason they want to die from embarrassment!

“It ain’t so bad! Camp needs a bit of romance!” The blonde next to him carried on. If he couldn’t catapult Lenny across 3 states with a tap, he would’ve gotten a shove.
“Whatever!” Lenny threw his arms up to make them both back off, then stood up sharply with a flustered blush on his cheeks. “I’m going!”

Going to find Sean, so basically proving their point.

When Lenny finally asked Sean if he wanted to go to their spot, the Irishman dropped everything he was doing, so naturally not a lot, and sped on his sore feet to the horses, a grin on his face and a spring back in his step. His smile was infectious, and barely even half-way through the ride, the younger man found his cheeks ached from laughing and talking. No one else made him feel like that.

Sean’s eyes barely left the other for a second. To him, Lenny was mesmerising in a way he couldn’t quite describe, looking so good everyday without even trying. He was like an artwork that showed you something you missed last time every time you looked, whether it was a coil of hair that stuck out or the scar on his eyebrow or the way his palms sweat when he was embarrassed. In fact, it made Sean feel fuzzy and special when he realised no one else knew how he trapped whoever had the pure fortune to find themselves sleeping next to him in a sweltering, affectionate octopus hug.

God, Karen was right.

It only took minutes to reach their spot, but neither would’ve minded if it took a lifetime. Well, Maggie and Ennis would.

The dry patch of grass and the warm, slightly setting sun felt like heaven to them both as they laid down next to each other. Their jackets were slipped off and used as pillows, and their gazes drifted across the sky, the yellow and orange against the half-faded, fluffy clouds seemed like a painting. The Irishman started to forget why Lenny had suggested they come back here as he admired breathlessly.

“So…I can be the first to talk about it, I guess,” The silence was broken as the younger man piped up. Sean turned his head to stare at him, trying to take in his words more than his appearance.

He took a breath in. “You scared me. I had never…seen you so upset, I mean, you were sobbing like a baby over getting yelled at. I knew you needed help and I feel guilty about how I went about trying to make you…let me help before all that. But, John’s tent? I don’t regret that at all. I liked having you in my arms, Sean. I know it’s weird and you can leave if you want, but I just…I needed to say something before I exploded,”

Lenny spoke with a nervous tone, but tried to make himself sound confident. MacGuire, however, was grinning from ear-to-ear.

“So, you’ve fallen for the MacGuire charm, just like the rest of them?” Cockily, he put on a smirk. Inside, his pet butterflies that seemed to have been planted by his attraction to Lenny were wildly spinning each other around like it was a Saturday night in the saloon. Happy wasn’t even the word. Overjoyed? Beyond relieved?

“Oh, will you shut up and tell me how you feel?!” The other man demanded, turning to him with the most flustered cheeks just begging to be felt. And they were both meant to be killers?

“Well…,” Like he had done, Sean let out a breath. “I guess I feel a wee bit guilty too. Weren’t fair on you to get you all worried then make you watch me hurt myself like that cause I were too nervous for a bit of help. And I know I was quiet after John’s tent, that weren’t fair on you either. But I didn’t have a nightmare that night, I want you to know that, Len. Like, you made me feel safe, and what I suppose I’m trying to say is..ah shite, I liked being in your arms. I like you,”

Lenny stared at his Irish with the most watchful, relieved, adoring expression he had ever got. The only one he had ever got. By the time the final words were out of his mouth, Sean was instinctively closing the gap between them, and he got no protest in response. Eyes closed, their lips met and something very alive was fueled. Love.

One hand went to Sean’s waist and the other went to Lenny’s neck, both so youthful and excited by what they were sharing that they barely pulled back for air before meeting again. Now they had gotten so close, they felt magnetic, like no force would ever pull their bond apart. The Irishman parted his lips so his new lover could taste him, which he did slowly and lustfully. He moved his pale hand up to cup his face and keep him close, so even when they were no longer kissing, they could still stare at each other through puppy eyes and love-drunk smiles.

“Since I wear my heart on my sleeve, I might as well tell you that…I love you,”
“I know. I love you more,”
“Not possible,”
“Mmhmm…it is,”

Lenny was happily silenced with another kiss.

Sean knew now the only thing he was going to be ‘plagued’ with was love, and everything that came with it.