There he goes again, cleaning those damn guns of his. You understand, they're 'precious', and you're surprised he hasn't named them. But why does he feel the need to clean them every single day, and even worse, multiple times a day?!
They're not dirty, they're far from dirty, but he could at least spend his time giving you a bit of attention rather than obsessing over his firearms.
You're huffing and pouting as you do your chores, and Arthur passes by making a comment "Just go and distract him if it bothers you that much!"
Huh, maybe that's not a bad idea?
The vegetables for supper are finally chopped, and after washing your hand and removing your apron, you're wandering over to the campfire. Micah knows it's you just from your footsteps, else he'd have an awkward interaction with another camp member after greeting you with a "Hey, Sweetheart," despite approaching him from behind.
"You look busy," you comment as you rest your hands on his shoulders, eventually resting your cheek against the top of his hat, peering over the brim at those cursed items.
"Busiest man in camp," he sarcastically comments, yet seems a little offended when you laugh at his reply.
"Ain't you just," you reply. "You got any time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" you question as you take a seat beside him, resting a hand on his thigh.
"Maybe in a little while, we can go or a ride, if you'd like," Micah comments, his eyes still fixated as he continues to clean his guns.
You pout and give his thigh a little squeeze, but still, his attention is far from focused on you. "Micah," you call out, and finally, he looks at you, frowning and replying "what?"
You scoot even closer and with your fingertips pressed under his chin, keeping his head up, you lean in and steal a kiss. It's a soft peck, quick and gentle, but enough for Micah to pull you back in for another kiss. Bingo, he's taken the bait, and you're enjoying locking lips with him as your other hand moves to his shirt. You know where he keeps his gun oil, in his shirt pocket, and you manage to sneak your hand in whilst he's occupied.
You're almost certain he felt you, but from the way he bites at your lip as he breaks the kiss, you assume he thinks you were just feeling him up. "Later," he comments, meaning he definitely thinks you were coming onto him.
"Alright," you reply as you play along, standing up and flashing him a look before wandering off, slipping his gun oil into your pocket.
Micah watches you leave before dipping his head back down and turning his focus to cleaning, one of the very few chores he's happy to do. The oil on his cloth soon runs dry, and he reaches a grubby hand into his shirt pocket to pull out the oil, only to find it's not there. Micah looks up, the cogs in his brain turning as he pieces everything together.
"Clever, real clever," he swears under his breath, and can't help but grin at your sneaky gesture. He begrudgingly puts his guns away, leaving the cloth behind as he stands, making his way through the camp to find you.
"Fine. You win, sweetheart. Let's go for that ride."
