#Its late and I'm tired but boy howdy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coldmorte · 4 years ago

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bro i'm a sucker for soft Vandermorgan....dutch reading while arthur sketches.....leaning on eachother.....dutch reaching over to rub arthur's back every few pages........running his hand through arthur's hair...soft k*sses and giggling...

Howdy, anon! 💜

My apologies that it took me a week to get back to this one. I gave time to consider it, and I hope the fic I wrote in response makes up for that!! It’s a very cute ask, and I love tenderness between them, too. But despite my affection for lighthearted stuff, I usually struggle with writing it (I’m a very dark and morbid person - oops 😅). Anyway, I’ve been getting quite a few soft VDM asks lately, so I figured I would accept another challenge!

I was hesitant about actually posting this, but I figured, what is there to lose? It does have some angst sprinkled in (I couldn’t help myself), but I hope I did your idea justice!!!

Oh, and to anybody else who sent VDM asks recently, I am still giving them some thought! So, stay tuned 😉

In the meantime, please enjoy…❤️🖤

“Why are you avoiding me, Arthur?”

Hand freezing and pencil ceasing its scratching within the journal on his lap, Arthur furrowed his brow as he peaked over the fire at Dutch. Yet, his eyes remained wide and questioning as he pushed back, “I’m not avoiding you. I just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered while you read.”

“Oh, come on. You know I never minded it in the past, especially not on a cold night like this. We could use all the heat we can spare between us,” Dutch flipped his book shut, patting the ground beside him.

Likewise, Arthur slid the bookmark of his journal in place as he closed it. “Well, I guess… it’s just…”

Dutch chuckled as he noticed Arthur bite his lip to suppress a timid smile. He gestured to Arthur, beckoning him over once again. “I know it’s been a long time since it’s been just the two of us, but you don’t have to be shy.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed as he pushed himself to his feet, journal still clutched in one hand. He walked over and knelt next to Dutch, but before he could properly get seated, Dutch reached forward and grasped him by his shirt collars. Pressing Arthur’s back to his bedroll, Dutch pinned him there as he straddled his hips.

The journal got cast aside as Arthur grabbed at Dutch’s back. Their lips met, hungrily and impassioned. Dutch pressed his chest firmer against Arthur’s and moaned at the warmth that radiated between them. He pulled back and grinned down at Arthur through heavily-lidded eyes, “See, isn’t it better on this side?”

“I was afraid this might happen,” Arthur laughed as he reached a hand forward and brushed some loose curls away from Dutch’s face.

Emitting a soft hum, Dutch felt himself glow with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Leaning in close once more, he whispered, “And are you complaining?”

“Never.” Arthur pulled Dutch in for another kiss, before Dutch backed away and sat up.

“I didn’t think so.” Dutch smirked as he reached for his wool blanket and unfolded it. Motioning for Arthur to sit up as well, he handed him a corner. They each wrapped part of it around themselves as they huddled close to the fire.

Arthur scooped his journal up and leaned against Dutch, his back pressed into the older man’s arm and shoulder for support. He reopened the journal on his lap, but his position hid his face and the journal’s contents from Dutch as he returned to sketching.

Attempting to peer over Arthur’s shoulder to no avail, Dutch asked, “What are you working on?”

“What are you reading?” Arthur shot back.

Dutch felt his heart briefly flutter. He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he responded, “Since when do you care about what I read?”

When Arthur gave no response, Dutch slipped one hand around Arthur’s chest, hugging him and pulling him tighter. Gradually, he let his hand glide lower, until it reached the top of Arthur’s pants. Tugging at the shirt tucked in there, Dutch moved it out of the way and slipped his cold fingers inside. Arthur jumped at the sudden intrusion and gave a shriek, “AHH! Dutch! Your hand is freezing!”

Nuzzling his nose against the back of Arthur’s neck, Dutch pressed a soft kiss there. His lips grazed the sensitive flesh as he muttered, “Why are you being so difficult tonight, my boy?”

“Too bad you just ruined any chance of seeing my sketch.” Arthur’s voice had a teasing edge, but it was lighthearted. “Read to me, first. I always liked listening to your voice.”

At that statement, Dutch pulled his hand away from Arthur’s warm skin but still kept it wrapped around him as he moved his head back in surprise. His mouth hung slightly agape at the boldness in Arthur’s tone, though he felt the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “So, that’s how you want to play this game… fine.”

Picking his book up in his free hand, Dutch opened it in his lap and scanned the pages. Arthur continued to sketch as Dutch’s other hand rubbed small circles over his chest.

Landing on a passage that caught his eye, Dutch began to read, “‘But whether the resistance against tyrants is non-violent or physically violent, the overarching efforts to overthrow oppression justifies the means.’ What do you think of that, Arthur?”

“It’s very nice, Dutch.”

“‘Nice?’ That’s the word you’d use to describe it?” Dutch protested, though he affectionately wrapped his arm tighter around Arthur as he did so. He flipped through the pages for a few more moments of silence before his eyes landed on another. “Well, how about this one? ‘The whole point of America is freedom. Freedom of thought, freedom of deed, freedom of action.’”

Letting out a sigh, Arthur tilted his head back so he could look at Dutch. Their faces were close - mere inches apart - as Arthur spoke, just barely above a whisper, “Does it always have to be about politics, Dutch? Some greater good? I thought we came out here to escape all that.”

Dutch wanted to argue and explain how important Evelyn Miller’s writings were to their mission as a gang and their survival. But he knew Arthur was right. This was their moment to share, and it wasn’t any use wasting it on philosophical debates. Those could wait.

Tipping his head forward, Dutch pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips and nodded as he pulled away. “Okay.”

Arthur smiled at him as he turned his head back towards his journal and continued to work. Looking back at his book, Dutch searched for a different passage to read. Though most of the ones he noted were about ideological teachings, he did finally settle on one that made his eyes narrow and lips tighten in consideration.

Taking a breath, Dutch traced the words with his finger as he read aloud, “‘Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe.’”

Arthur did not say anything in response, though Dutch felt his hand stop drawing, as if Arthur was thinking about it. Dutch could feel the steady beat of Arthur’s heart as he gently massaged his chest.

Eventually, Dutch buried his face in Arthur’s blond hair as he asked, “Hmm, was that better?”

Arthur flipped his journal shut in his lap and rocked lightly into Dutch as he muttered, “You know I was never much good with words.”

“Oh, son… and you know that I wish you wouldn’t downplay yourself like this.” Dutch squeezed Arthur’s breast as he cradled him closer. “You speak from the heart, that’s what matters most... same goes for when you draw in that journal of yours.”

At that, Arthur bent his head down towards the journal in his lap. He tied the leather flap and slid the pencil in place underneath it. Lifting the journal, he set it in front of where the two of them were seated and pushed it forward. It was like a silent invitation, placed just out of reach.

Adjusting his position, Arthur turned around so he could lean his chest against Dutch as he wound both of his arms around the older man’s waist. He buried his head in the crook of Dutch’s neck, and Dutch couldn’t suppress a shiver as Arthur’s warm breath vibrated across the bare flesh at his collar when he spoke, “Thank you for reading to me. ‘M getting tired…”

“Rest up, it’s been a long day.” Dutch set his own book aside so he could readjust himself and wrap his arms around Arthur’s back. He rubbed soothing circles as he rested his chin atop Arthur’s head and watched the flickering glow of the fire.

This was real.

This wasn’t make-believe, or some long-lost memory. Arthur’s steady breathing and the warmth of his flesh confirmed that fact. Dutch let his eyes flicker shut in thought as he was once again reminded of how right Arthur was.

At the end of the day, all those fancy words in his books and his own philosophizing would be meaningless without Arthur by his side.

Dutch furrowed his brow as he blinked his eyes open. Biting his lip, he took a sharp breath and paused. He hesitated to say the words on the tip of his tongue, but he released a long exhale as he tightened his grip on his boy.

He felt safe here.

“You know, Arthur… you’re right. This life of crime, even I sometimes wonder where it all ends, or if it even ends at all. I try to do what’s best, I really do. I know I talk a lot about loyalty and how important it is to keep faith, but these moments when I’m alone with you….” Dutch let his voice trail off. Even amidst his own speaking, he couldn’t fail to notice the light snore coming from Arthur’s lips.

But rather than feeling anger or frustration, Dutch merely smiled. In a way, it was a relief. Arthur couldn’t hear him, and if he could, he would never remember Dutch’s words come morning. Somehow, it was easier this way. Whatever he said aloud, he knew he wouldn’t have to prove or justify it to anybody. He could speak from the heart.

The truth.

“I don’t know how I could ever go on without you. Please, don’t ever let go…”

At that, Dutch squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He focused on the way Arthur maintained a tight grip around his waist, despite his steady snores. The words weren’t meant to be literal, but for the moment, Dutch could allow himself to believe it was possible both physically and figuratively.

Dutch blinked the dampness away from his eyelashes as he looked back towards the fire. The journal was still sitting there, illuminated by the orange glow. Shifting on the ground, Dutch lifted his head away from Arthur and peered down at him. He seemed unbothered by the movements, so Dutch decided to push it further. Unwrapping one arm from around Arthur’s back, Dutch leaned slowly forward, until his fingertips were just able to land on the journal’s leather cover.

Pulling the book towards him, Dutch was able to pick it up in one hand and place it in his lap. He briefly feared the action disturbed Arthur, for he whined and pressed his face harder against Dutch’s shoulder. However, his heavy breathing continued, and Dutch proceeded to slide the journal’s strap out of its place. Holding the pencil in his hand, Dutch turned to the bookmark at the back.

There, he found a sketch of two animals - a buck and a wolf. Despite serving contrasting roles in the wild, they looked perfectly at ease within the sketch. They curled around each other as they laid down to rest, their noses nearly touching. The way they huddled together made it seem believable that they really could find harmony, regardless of their true natures.

On the opposite page, a message was written, “‘Couldn’t resist, could you?’”

Dutch chuckled, Was he really that predictable?

Using the pencil, he scrawled his own note underneath, “‘It’s no use trying to fight who we really are.’”

Taking one last look at the sketch, Dutch ran a finger over it. Just as he could speak in metaphorical language, Arthur could draw in it. But the meanings underneath it all remained the same.

Just because it wasn’t literal, that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.

Closing the journal and placing it back where he found it, Dutch kept a firm hold on Arthur as he pulled the both of them down to lay on his bedroll. Adjusting the blanket, Dutch made sure it was draped snugly over them as Arthur soundlessly snuggled his face against Dutch’s chest and hugged him tighter. Once Dutch was comfortable, he likewise wrapped his arms around Arthur, one holding him by the small of his back and the other rumpling his hair.

Feeling tired as well, Dutch shut his eyes. With his final words for the night, Dutch thought of what he just wrote in the journal as they held each other close. Continuing along the same line of thought, he whispered, “We just gotta embrace it.”

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