#LH arthur is a brat who think he doesn't deserve anything

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

I live for lh Arthur and your writing tbh - I feel like low-honor Arthur's favorite type of fighting is a knife fight, so if it's not a bother may you please write something where he gets into a knife fight and goes back to camp cut up and one of the "parents" of the gang gets on him about it? ("Parents of the gang" would be like Dutch or Hosea or grimshaw or smthn) anyways,have a wonderful day friend~

Words: 1,647Interaction: Arthur with Kieran, Karen, and Grimshaw [no ship]Warnings: Arthur is hurt, SFW, Angst, and FluffLeave a Tip?

LH Arthur is such a brat in my head. It’s young Arthur and he is just trying so hard to prove himself, but yeah hand to hand and knives would be his favorite. More intimate and let’s him really feel the effects of life leaving his foe’s body.

Sorry this took a bit, but Grimshaw is here to mother a young idiot.**warning this gets a bit soft, because I say Arthur deserves it**

The blood oozed slowly from his side, the ride had been agonizing but the smell of firewood reached his nose through the trees. He felt the last of his strength draining as he pulled into the campsite. Slumping over the back of his horse as it came to stop near the outskirts of camp. A groan escaped him as the horse dipped it’s head to graze, seemingly unfazed by it’s passenger. It’s Kieran who finds him, moving against the darkness on his way to the scout fire.

“Arthur? ARTHUR!” His voice grated against Arthur’s skull, panic laced his tone as he felt the hands grasp around his arm and begins to tug him down off the horse’s back. “Someone help! Arthur’s hurt!” Arthur felt himself slip, landing heavily on Kieran in the dirt. “Hey, stay with me, Arthur, can you hear me?” The camp came to life, Arthur’s side pulsed and his head swam, he groaned heavily.

“M’fine, just a scrape, just need to sleep it off.” Arthur attempted to roll off Kieran, his movement stopped as a sharp pain shot up his side, collapsing back onto Kieran’s chest.

“Mr. Morgan, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Kieran, take Mr. Morgan to his tent and get his shirt off so we can see what stupid thing he has done this time.” Susan’s voice left no room for argument. Kieran nodded and slowly carried the Arthur back to his tent lying him as gently as he could onto his cot.

The blood stuck to his union suit and as Kieran peeled off the layers of clothes causing Arthur to hiss with pain, bringing his fist down on a particularly painful tug.

“S-sorry. Almost done. This looks bad Arthur, what happened?” Kieran got up, pulling a kerchief from his pocket he soaked it in some water and came back to clean the wound. Arthur winced as Kieran gently cleaned around the wound, blood still oozing from it.

“Guess they thought I was cheatin’ at cards, took a cheap shot and caught me in the side.” Arthur chuckled darkly at Kieran between gritted teeth. “Last time though.”Susan walked into the tent, her scowl wiped the smirk off Arthur’s face.

“Kieran, how does it look, am I gonna need to stitch it up?” Her eyes burned into Arthur, her scowl made him shudder slightly. He really hoped she didn’t need to get at him with the needle, because she was spittin’ mad and she wasn’t going to be gentle.

“Most likely, ma’am. Seems the bleedin’ ain’t stoppin’. It’s deep, but seems like a clean cut.”

“Go get my supplies, the girls can help you.” Her eyes still trained on Arthur. Kieran got up and left leaving them alone.

“Now, I don’t wan–”

“Arthur, the hell is wrong with you lately. You’re being reckless, you could have been killed!” Her voice shaking with anger.

“I’ll live, I’ve had worse.” He sighed. “Plus, ain’t like I asked them to stab me. Feller thought I was cheatin’ at cards, stabbed me while I was playin’.” Susan bent over to inspect the wound, her hands pushing on the skin around the puncture, Arthur wincing.

“Were you?” Her voice still stern, but softer, picking up the kerchief she continued to prod and examine the wound.

“Ain’t my fault they had bad tells.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders slightly, sweat beading on his forehead, keeping himself awake against the fog in his mind. Susan stood up, arching a brow to him, she turned and yelled into the camp.

“Ain’t aiming to let him bleed out for his poor choices, hurry up with those supplies Kieran!” She turned back to Arthur. “Stay awake now, I need you awake.”

Kieran came running back, Karen in tow, both with bandages and Karen’s sewing kit.

“I couldn’t find yours, Karen’s got hers.” Kieran placed the cotton on the table and backed out of the tent. “What else you need?”

“Get Arthur some water, quickly. Karen, keep him awake.”

“Ma’am” Kieran jogged off to grab his canteen. Karen moved to Arthur’s side, earning a grumble from him.

“Ain’t that bad…” he muttered, “no need to be makin’ such a fuss.”

“Shut up, you’re being an idiot.” Karen quipped, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “You look like shit an’ you know it.”

Susan worked quickly, poking her fingers into the wound to make sure there wasn’t more damage deeper inside, Arthur’s grip on the cot tightened, his body stiffening. Confident as she could be there was nothing awful inside she started to stitch it closed, pulling the skin together tightly.

Karen grabbed for Arthur’s hand as he reached out his eyes pressed tightly closed, she squeezed his hand, picking up the canteen with the other.

“Hey, we’re almost done, here, have some water.” She pressed the canteen to his lips. The water trickled down his throat, the cool water like ice against his skin, he drifted out of consciousness.

—-

The sun was high in the sky when Arthur woke, his side stiff with pain and the taste of iron on his tongue. Susan sat beside him in the tent, silently reading. She glanced over as he stirred, he expression hard, she reached over and pulled the wet cloth from his forehead.

“You’re a damn fool Mr. Morgan. Reckless and hot-headed. You could’ve died last night. Over something as stupid as a card game.” Her tone cold and the words bit into him. “You’ve been acting a fool for weeks now, what’s got into you boy?” His voice croaked, his throat was dry and his body heavy as he tried to pull himself up onto his elbows.

“Ain’t trying to be, just seems that things have been more reckless the last few weeks.” Susan’s hand firmly pushing him back onto the cot. She shook her head, clear she didn’t believe a word he said.

“That ain’t what I mean, and you know it.” She glanced out at the camp, and sighed. “We both know you ain’t been acting like yourself. What are you tryin’ to prove?” Her voice was softer now, filled with concern, Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his voice low.

“I dunno, guess things just different since Marston came back. He comes back and we celebrate, we’re supposed to just get back to normal, like he didn’t abandon us. We just supposed to be happy he’s back? All if forgiven?” He closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“‘Course we’re happy he’s back, boy! He’s family!” Her tone incredulous, jealousy was the cause of this? She never had seen the boy as jealous, but here she felt the insecurity. “We’d of done the same for you. You know that, right?” Her hand went out to him, grabbing softly onto his arm, coaxing him to look at her. Arthur chuckled darkly, his eyes not meeting hers.

“You ain’t gotta lie, I know I ain’t the golden boy, they’ve always like Johnny better.”

“Arthur Morgan.” Her tone chiding. “You really think this family don’t care about you?” She reached out and gently wiping the beading sweat from his forehead. She moved to check the bandages around his side. Cutting them slowly and gingerly unwrapping the cotton.

“Of course they care, for what I can do, who I can intimidate, what I can steal.” He paused, flinching slightly under Susan’ touch. “I know my role, what we need, and it ain’t some blushing daisy. So I do what needs doin’ even if that means killin’. To protect all of ya. That’s my job, my purpose, ain’t got the luxury to worry if it’s for love.” His voice was small and hollow, his eyes miles away.

Susan’s hands continued their work, she gently washed the wound the skin around it red and angry, but the heat was significantly less than last night. She thanked whatever deity watched over her idiot son, the man was reckless with his body, always had been, but listening to him now it all came together. He was so closed off from everyone, because he felt that no one cared. She gestured for him to sit up, her face neutral as she worked.

He was slow to rise, his face contorting with the pain and his side on fire with each movement, he rested his arms on his knees as Susan wrapped his torso with clean linen. She placed the supplies on the table before sitting down on the cot, she wrapped her arms around him gingerly pulling him to her chest.

“Now that just ain’t true, you’re loved. If by no one else, by me.” She pulled him back and gently turned his face to look at her. “But you act a fool again, and I’ll kill you myself.” She pulled him back into the hug, letting him break it off. “Get some rest Arthur, I’ll be back to check on you. You stay in this bed! You need anything you call someone.”

Arthur grunted a response as she helped him lie back, placing a fresh cool rag on his head. His chest tightened and he closed his eyes, Susan had been the closest thing to a mother since he joined the gang, and it had been a long time since she sat and had a private talk with him. He blinked against the harsh mid-day light and exhaled deeply, he stared at the canvas above him.

“I am loved.” He said to himself before closing his eyes again and letting the healing sleep take over. “Who could ever love a bastard like me?”