#thimble fics

As Mary-Beth comes to terms with her growing feelings towards him, Kieran practices his writing, just like she taught him. While flicking through his practice book one day, she comes across a secret note he'd written -- a simple scribble worth a thousand words.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "--R...A...N..."

Mary-Beth patiently recited the letters and looked on as her student obediently wrote them down. His handwriting was shaky and uneven, but he remembered the basic form of each of the letters, and that was a victory in her eyes.

He looked to her as he finished the word, meekly awaiting her approval.

"Good!" she beamed, earning a small, relieved smile in return, his shoulders relaxing as he sat up a little straighter. Mary-Beth leaned in closer to get a better look as the lesson continued. "Okay, now the surname." He nodded, pencil moving over the page just like she'd taught him.

"D...U...F...F...Y--there! Kieran Duffy," she said, following the letters with her finger as she enunciated their sounds. She grinned up at her prized pupil. "You just wrote your own name! I'm so proud of you."

He fidgeted in his seat, unsure how to accept her praise, but he smiled in response to her encouragement, nonetheless.

"I had a good teacher, miss," was his humble reply. His steel blue eyes regarded her with quiet gratitude and wonder, as if he never would have believed himself capable of something so simple were it not for her guidance.

"And I have a very good student," she told him, reaching for his arm and looking deep into his eyes so he knew she meant it. 

He got that odd look on his face again, like he was holding his breath.

"Kieran?" Mary-Beth carefully lifted her hand away, hoping the sudden touch hadn't made him uncomfortable. "What is it?"

He looked back down at the page, pencil still wavering over it. "I was just wonderin'..." he said, rolling the pencil between his fingers, "what your name looks like. Y'know, on paper."

"Oh." Mary-Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was her turn to be shy as she shuffled in even closer until they were shoulder to shoulder, gesturing for him to hand over the pencil. "Well, I usually write it like this--"

Her hand moved in fluid strokes that danced across the paper. The result was neat and beautiful -- perfectly suited to her, in Kieran's mind, but he was far from learning to write cursive yet and had no chance of reading it. Noticing the lost expression on his face, she chuckled, moving to rewrite it in simple printed letters that he could decipher. He sat up, poring over the book to carefully study the marks she'd made.

"Mary-Beth...Gaskill..." he murmured to himself.

Butterflies stirred to life in her chest as she watched his lips form the syllables of her name, his finger following it just as hers had done with his moments before. The look of concentration on his face shouldn't have caused her eyes to linger like they did, but she found herself looking intently, inexplicably fascinated by every blemished feature. Her gaze had swept down, analysing the angle of his bearded jaw and the subtle movement of his Adam's apple as he spoke, and now it strayed even further, past the dark strands of hair that fell over the collar of his leather duster coat and the rise of his clavicle, where his partially unbuttoned shirt seemed to direct her eyes down to the narrow glimpse of chest exposed beneath it.

Mary-Beth caught the sensation of warmth rising on her cheeks and realised with a lurch that she had been shamelessly staring. Thankfully, Kieran hadn't noticed, his attention firmly devoted to tracing the letters that made up her name. Searching for something else to focus on while she prayed for her fierce blush to die down, she settled for eyeing the fraying fabric of Kieran's clothes. The garments were torn and riddled with holes where they had clearly seen better days. Mary-Beth tilted her head thoughtfully, making a mental note for later.

The needle moved swiftly, weaving in and out of the thin material, the torn seams coming together once more. Mary-Beth examined her handiwork. Sewing wasn't her favourite chore, but sheer necessity had granted her some degree of skill with the needle. Her stitches weren't quite perfect, but she doubted Kieran would mind that they were a tad uneven.

There'd been no need for her to repair the old duster coat. Upon moving into their new camp, Arthur had presented Kieran with a new set of clothes, much to his surprise. Just a little something he'd scrounged up from whatever the folks that had previously camped there left behind, Arthur had said. The trousers in particular were a little big for Kieran's slender frame, but that hadn't mattered to him; he'd immediately thrown off the O'Driscoll coat like a prisoner unchained. Its burnt remnants were found among the ashes of the scout fire the next morning.

Mary-Beth looked back down at the newly mended shirt in her hands; the one Kieran wore to bed. She'd washed it, too, doing her best to scrub out the stubborn stains. It certainly looked better than it had before. Folding it carefully, she hurried to return it to its place among Kieran's pitifully few belongings before he had a chance to realise it was missing. 

As she was putting it away, Mary-Beth caught sight of the practice book. On a whim, she picked it up, curious to check on his progress. She could see he'd been dutifully practicing in his own time, filling the pages with his awkward, uncertain penmanship. 

One page showcased the alphabet and some basic punctuation marks. The ampersand symbol had recently come up in one of the books they were reading, and she had briefly explained to Kieran what the funny little squiggle meant. The idea that some words could be written without any letters at all seemed to blow his mind. 

Another page had been completed with repetitions of his own name, the letters gradually neatening out as he grew more accustomed to them. A proud smile grew on her face as she flicked through to his more recent work.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The next two pages were covered not with Kieran's name, but hers. Her eyes were met with it over and over again: Mary-Beth, Mary-Beth, Mary-Beth. He'd even tried to mimic the same cursive style in which she'd penned her own name when he asked her to demonstrate. It wasn't very good, but she found his attempt endearing regardless.

She went to turn the page once more, but as she lifted the paper, she noticed something scrawled in the lower corner, hidden away like a secret. She took a closer look and choked on a soft gasp.

If her cheeks hadn't been warmed with affection before, they certainly were now. It probably sounded ridiculous, the idea that something as innocent as a few strokes of lead in a practice book could make her blush, but to her, there was a whole unspoken promise in them, something that went far beyond merely what was laid bare on the paper.

Kieran was very deliberate about his work; he wouldn't do something like this on accident -- frankly, he couldn't, what with all of this being fairly new to him. Writing anything took a conscious effort to remember the right letters and symbols to spell out what he wanted to say. Something would have to be very important and meaningful to him for him to put it in writing.

She trailed her fingers over his clumsy chicken-scratch and knew in her heart she was hopelessly head-over-heels for her unlikely student. "Oh, Kieran..." Mary-Beth sighed fondly, almost tearing up at the sweet and simple note he hadn't meant for her to see. 

There were no words -- just letters, a symbol, and a promise: 'K & M-B'.

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Kieran's lovesick imagination runs wild after reading fairy tales with Mary-Beth.

Inspired by @kinoselynn 's artwork <3

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"Okay, now this is one of my favourites--"

Mary-Beth presented a book with a pretty embellished cover, holding it up so Kieran could read the title for himself. She smiled softly at the adorable look of concentration he made as he cleared his throat and did his best to make out the words.

"The Little...Mer...Mer-maid." He looked up, bewildered. "What's a mermaid?"

Mary-Beth giggled excitedly.

"You'll find out! Come." She sat down and urged him to join her. He obeyed, taking a seat beside her, careful not to get too close. Noticing his apprehension, she took it upon herself to close the distance, shuffling close enough that they sat shoulder-to-shoulder.

"This one's a fairy tale," Mary-Beth said, opening the book to its first page. "It's kind of bittersweet, but terribly romantic," she sighed dreamily. Kieran just nodded and began reading aloud.

He had learned quickly, but that may have been purely because he really wanted to impress Mary-Beth. When they had brought up the topic of reading and she coyly suggested teaching him, he had been much too flustered to respond with anything more than a feeble nod. He hadn't thought on it much more afterward, figuring that she had only been playing with him. When she surprised him the very next day and asked if he was ready for his first lesson, he had nearly tripped over himself in his haste to accept. He could now recognise most simple words, but he still looked to her for help with trickier ones.

Kieran soon found himself genuinely invested in the story, sensing something familiar in the little outsider watching from afar, longing for something that seemed just out of reach. Mary-Beth was surprised at how keenly he pressed on, impatient to know what would happen next, but she made no comment on it. She leaned into him as he continued reading, only speaking up when he came to a word he didn't know.

He read until it became too dark for him to make out the words on the page, and only then did he realise Mary-Beth had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He turned back to the book, where the mermaid had just rescued the prince from a shipwreck and carried him safely to shore. In what dim light was left, he could still discern the ink illustration that accompanied the scene, depicting a beautiful girl with a long, slender fish tail and hair like the waves of the ocean itself, clasping the unconscious prince to her bare bosom as the sea crashed around them.

So that's what a mermaid is, he thought, captivated by the image. He sat there for a moment, the picture etching itself into his memory. He closed the book, and turned to look at Mary-Beth's sleeping form. She looked so peaceful it felt cruel to wake her, so he hesitated, and indulged a rare moment where he could savour her beauty up close without worrying that she would catch him staring.

He had noticed her kindness before anything else, hopelessly enamoured with her from the moment she had put water to his parched lips, showing sympathy for the gang's tormented captive even though she risked getting herself in trouble by doing so. Mary-Beth felt everything so intensely and she never stopped dreaming.

Meeting her had been like seeing a rainbow for the first time after living under a big dark cloud his whole life. The fact that she also happened to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen only served to overwhelm an already infatuated Kieran.

He glanced around, seeing that everyone was settling in for the night, and tentatively lifted a hand to brush Mary-Beth's curls out of her face, wracked with the sudden urge to place a kiss on her forehead.

He didn't.

"Mary-Beth," he whispered, shaking her lightly. She hummed, slowly stirring.

"Kieran?" she muttered, opening her bleary eyes. She sat up with a soft gasp, realising how dark it had gotten. She turned to him sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Kieran, I didn't mean to doze off on you like that. You were doing so well reading, I didn't want to stop you."

It was his turn to be embarrassed.

"No, no, it's fine, I kinda got carried away..." he blabbered. "Um, thank you again, Mary-Beth. For teachin' me. I really appreciate it." She just smiled.

"Well, I suppose I should get to bed," Mary-Beth said, gathering the book and moving to get up. Kieran rose with her, courteously helping her to her feet. He promptly tried to retract his hand from hers, but she didn't let go. "We can read more tomorrow, if you want?" Her tone was hopeful, as though she looked forward to their time together just as eagerly as he did.

"I'd like that," he replied softly. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze before finally letting go.

"Goodnight, Kieran," she said, turning and walking away.

Kieran let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, dropping his eyes from her retreating form and taking a moment to regain his composure, as he always did after an interaction with Mary-Beth. He didn't notice that she had stopped in her tracks and turned back around. A strangled gasp left him as he suddenly felt her lips upon his cheek -- just a peck -- and then she was gone again. He touched the place where her lips had been just a second ago, already feeling it burn beneath his fingers.

Kieran struggled to sleep that night, his mind stuck on that fleeting kiss. The innocent gesture had caused a furious blush to come over him, and the uncomfortable heat hadn't gone away. Hoping a dunk in the lake would cure his affliction, he got up and crept the little way to the shoreline beyond the trees. Bracing himself for the cold shock, he waded out until the water was deep enough for him to plunge himself under entirely. After a moment he resurfaced with a sigh of relief. He was shivering and soaked through to the skin, but at least the feverish sensation was gone.

He returned to the edge of the shore and sat down, slicking back his wet hair. The moon was full over Flat Iron Lake, its unusual blue glow reflecting on the water. He stared at it as he waited to dry off, basking in the cool stillness until he heard a splash. He strained his eyes in the dark, scanning the lake and seeing nothing peculiar. Just as he began to consider returning to the safety of camp, he saw something -- or someone -- emerge from under the water.

Ivory skin shone in the moonlight, loose hair falling over her shoulders and clinging to her wet skin, conveniently obscuring her bare chest. He could only stare in silence as the mysterious lady drew close enough for him to eventually make out a dusting of freckles, and a distinct mole at the corner of her lips. All at once, recognition came crashing down on him and he gawked in disbelief.

" M-Mary-Beth??! "

She only smiled, while he felt his heart nearly pound out of his chest, tearing his eyes from her indecently clad figure.

What is she doing? I shouldn't be seeing her like this! If anyone at camp found out--

He was brought out of his racing thoughts as she giggled and plunged back into the water. When she didn't resurface, Kieran panicked. Shoving aside his worries about propriety, he ran out into the lake, calling for her. Before he knew what hit him, he was tackled out of the water, his back hitting the sand with an ungraceful thud. He blinked and found a pair of sea green eyes looking back at him. He scrambled to sit up, his sight adamantly fixed on her freckled face as she loomed over him, seemingly amused by the scarlet flush blooming across his cheeks. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him steal a glance over her shoulder, gasping at the sight of a smooth-scaled fish tail stretching out behind her, fins flicking curiously.

A mermaid, he realised. She was a perfect likeness of the mermaid he'd seen in her book. He remained transfixed as Mary-Beth leaned in even closer, her half-lidded gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips. His blush had come back with a vengeance, burning his ears and neck as he shied away from her, painfully aware of her proximity. He opened his mouth to protest.

"Shhh," she whispered, putting a finger to his lips. His voice faltered; the only sound he could hear was his own heart thudding in his ears. She tilted his chin up, her eyes slowly falling shut as she moved to place her lips on his...

--SPLASH!

Kieran yelped as a bucket of water was dumped over his head. He sputtered at the rude awakening, looking up to find Arthur standing over him, empty pail in hand.

"Heh, sorry 'bout that. Ain't like you to sleep in so late; thought maybe Mrs Adler had actually gone and killed ya in your sleep," Arthur chuckled by way of apology, extending a hand to help a soggy Kieran to his feet.

"Well, uh, thanks, I guess," Kieran muttered, shirt sticking to him unpleasantly. He tried to ignore the handful of folks staring in his direction, no doubt laughing at him as usual. He sighed, retrieving his clothes and stalking off to change. He peeled the damp nightshirt off, praying no one would come by and poke fun at his pale, lanky body. No sooner had he pulled the garment over his head than he heard a voice from behind him.

"Kieran? I--oh!"

He whipped around to find Mary-Beth standing there, book in hand, probably having sought him out to resume their reading. He froze at the sight of her, suddenly recalling his strange and unseemly dream. While he wrestled with guilt over the unbidden whims of his imagination, her eyes strayed to his shirtless torso, her cheeks dusted a rosy pink. He squirmed and she quickly looked away, babbling an apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I--I just thought we could maybe do some more reading?" she giggled nervously, holding up the book. Kieran did his best to muster a smile.

"Uh, sure, just...gimme a second, okay?" he squeaked. She nodded and clutched the book to her chest, giving him some privacy as he turned around to get dressed.

He didn't see the way she paused and bit her lip, shyly stealing one last glance at him over her shoulder as she walked away.

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I was really nervous to post this! It just seemed a little racier than any of my previous drabbles -- I may have gotten a little carried away once again. Anyway, I really hope this is decent.

A little glimpse into the beginnings of Kieran and Karen's friendship because the way she warms up to him and becomes almost protective towards him means a lot to me <3

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Karen Jones never apologised. She was who she was, and she didn't give a damn what anyone thought. She spoke her mind and pulled no punches, and she wasn't going to waste a second of her life feeling sorry about it.

But she wasn't too proud to admit when she was wrong.

"Jesus, I'm dyin' for a cig right about now..."

Karen peeked around the side of the wagon to see the O'Driscoll -- no, Kieran -- seeking respite at the scout fire, desperately shoving his hands into the pockets of his ratty old coat in search of his nicotine fix. His face crumpled in dismay as they turned up empty, any cigarettes he may have had on him when he was captured long since confiscated. Karen heard him curse under his breath, the word coming out as a defeated whimper rather than an outburst of frustration.

It was kind of sad, really, she thought to herself, tapping the ash from the end of her own cigarette. She paused, then took out her pack again, considering its contents.

Oh, what the hell.

"Hey."

The poor man jumped so violently he nearly toppled out of his seat. "Oh--! Uh, Miss...Miss Jones, right?" he greeted nervously.

Karen rolled her eyes. "Please," she groaned, "just call me Karen, okay?"

"Oh. Uh, sure." 

Kieran's eyes followed her warily as she strode to stand across from him at the fire. She didn't know why, but she felt a tug at the corners of her mouth as she held the open pack of cigarettes out to him. He shot her a hesitant glance, but she simply shook the pack at him with an insistent nod. No sooner had he drawn one out than a matchbox landed square in his lap.

Karen had never seen a man light up so quick -- the man damn well nearly moaned at the first bitter taste of burnt tobacco. She chirped out an amused laugh as she brought her own cigarette back to her lips. "Someone's happy."

Kieran stiffened, his eyes opening abruptly, the momentary bliss shattered. He coughed, shrinking in on himself, avoiding meeting Karen's eye as he held the matchbox back out to her. "Thank you. For--y'know," he muttered, waving the cigarette in his hand by way of explanation.

Karen pocketed the matches with a little grunt of acknowledgement. "Don't mention it."

A somewhat awkward silence ensued for a few minutes, neither of them sure what else to say. Kieran took his time savouring his cigarette while Karen's rapidly burnt out. She took one final drag before it burned down to her fingertips, crushing what remained of it beneath the toe of her boot. Taking that as her cue to leave, she made to turn from the fire.

"Why you bein' so nice to me?"   She halted in her tracks, her ringlets swaying with the sudden motion. "Huh?"

Kieran let out a slow exhale of smoke. The nicotine seemed to have calmed his nerves for the moment, because he held her gaze this time as he repeated, "I said, why you being so nice?" 

Why am I doing this? Karen asked herself. The last time they'd interacted, the poor feller had been tethered to a tree pleading for mercy and she'd told him to go fuck himself. Karen cringed at the memory. She could understand his confusion about her sudden change of tune.

Maybe it was because he was always willing to help with chores without even being asked, or the fact that the horses had never been so well looked after. 

Maybe Mary-Beth's silly romances hadn't gone to her head when she described the scraggly, dark-haired lad as "sweet and gentle, if a little rough around the edges."

Maybe Karen cared more than she thought and knew that the way they'd treated him -- the way she'd treated him -- was unfair.

"I don't know," she shrugged, answering honestly. "But...I guess you don't seem all that bad of a feller after all. I hear you saved Arthur's life back at that cabin," she tacked on, keen to get past her own admission as swiftly as possible.

Kieran nodded.

"That about settles it, then; you're runnin' with us now," Karen said decisively. "We ain't much, but we take care of our own. So--" she stepped forward to give the man a playful little shove, "--welcome to the gang, 'O'Driscoll boy'." 

The name still made him wince, but Kieran could tell she didn't mean it to be cruel. She flashed him the tiniest of smiles as she stepped away once more, but before the gang's newest recruit could even begin to pick apart the interaction in his head, he heard Karen call out to him again.

"And Kieran--"

"Hm?"

"Catch."

Something arced through the air and he caught whatever it was without thinking. He opened his hands, only to find the whole pack of cigarettes sitting in his palm.

"But--" he gasped, "Miss Karen, I couldn't--"

"Just keep it," the blonde scoffed, waving a hand. "You can buy me another." Her feigned annoyance was hardly convincing; her eyes were too warm and her grin too sincere. 

Kieran barely managed to babble out his thanks before she was out of earshot. He stared at the half-empty pack -- such a silly, trivial little thing -- and though Karen didn't see it, he finally smiled.

It wasn't an apology. 

On a rainy night in Horseshoe Overlook, a sleepless Arthur hears voices on the outskirts of camp.

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The night was grey, but the heat from the campfire licked at the edges of Arthur Morgan's tent. He'd had a drink as he sat around with the guys after dinner, not saying much, but idly listening to everyone else talk, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

There was another warmth, too, somewhere in his chest as he glanced around, oblivious to the small smile he bore upon his lips. Sean and Lenny were busy making each other wheeze and sway with laughter, Uncle was playing the banjo, and old Hosea was singing along, looking more at ease than Arthur had seen him in some time.

Things seemed to be going their way, since moving to Horseshoe Overlook. Life was good. For now, at least.

The first few droplets from the sky had spurred them to turn in, bidding each other goodnight with a clap on the back as they made their way to their own sleeping areas. The camp was quiet save for the sound of rain on canvas and the scratch of a pencil as Arthur scribbled away in his journal by the light of a single candle.

He was an irregular sleeper and often remained awake well into the night. He was sure everyone else was asleep by now - that is, until he overheard soft voices speaking on the edge of camp. He stood up, revolver at his hip - just in case - and looked to the source of the sound, somewhere past Dutch's tent.

The voices came from the rocks on the outskirts of camp, where their former hostage, Kieran, had taken to sleeping since being more-or-less inducted into the gang. Sure enough, the scrawny young man was sitting there in his underclothes as usual, soaked to the skin with no shelter from the elements. Someone else was standing over him, a thick woolen blanket drawn over their head as they spoke to the shivering form on the ground.

Curious, Arthur sneaked closer to overhear the conversation.

The other figure's identity was revealed as Mary-Beth slipped the blanket off from around her and knelt to wrap it around Kieran instead. He vainly tried to protest as she drew it around his shoulders.

"Y-you really don't have to do all this-!"

"Shush," Mary-Beth chided softly, adjusting the blanket to be snug around him. It was heavy and kind of itchy but it would at least keep him warm. "I'm sorry I can't do more," she apologized, pulling away to look him in the eyes. "The other girls maybe wouldn't mind you sleeping in one of the wagons behind us, but...Mrs Adler..." She trailed off, knowing no further explanation was needed.

Kieran winced at the mention of their resident widow. Sadie made no secret of how much she resented the former O'Driscoll. He'd lost count of how many times she had threatened to kill him already, even for merely looking in her general direction. He didn't dare to risk her wrath, no matter how cosy the covered wagons sounded in that instant.

His attention was drawn back to Mary-Beth as she bashfully continued, "I knitted this while we were up in the mountains...I hope it'll do, for now." She stood and wrapped her arms around herself to ward the chill from her dampening skin.

"You're far too kind, Miss," Kieran huffed, sounding ashamed as Mary-Beth now began to shiver in his place.

"Oh, Kieran," she sighed sweetly, "just call me Mary-Beth."

Kieran gazed up at her, basking in her smile as if it were the sun itself. "...Thank you, Mary-Beth."

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Kieran."

A small smile finally came over him as he responded in kind. "Goodnight, Mary-Beth."

 She lingered for a second, returning his smile, before she scurried away to bed.

Arthur stood there for a moment after she'd gone, taking in the scene he'd just witnessed. He shook his head. That girl was really too sentimental and kind-hearted to be throwing her life away in the company of outlaws. And Kieran...well. The poor kid hadn't had much choice, thrown from one unfortunate circumstance to another for almost as long as he could remember.

Arthur watched Kieran huddle deep into the blanket, rain still falling on his head and trickling down his nose as he attempted to will himself to sleep. It was pitiful.

Perhaps witnessing Mary-Beth's selfless efforts had compelled him somehow, because before he could talk himself out of it, Arthur was sighing and marching over.

"C'mon," he grumbled.

"Eh?" came the confused response.

"What, you wanna sit in the mud all night? I said come on, before I change my mind!" Arthur reiterated impatiently.

Kieran nearly tripped over in his haste to pick himself up off the ground and scramble after Arthur, who was already walking back to his tent. He stood awkwardly outside, warily watching as Arthur shook off the worst of the rain.

"Well, come on out of that rain, boy, I ain't gonna kill ya; you can sleep on the ground there for the night, just to keep you dry," Arthur clarified, gesturing to the sheltered patch of grass beside the cot. "I'm sure little Miss Mary-Beth would hate to see you catch your death out there," he added knowingly, glancing over his shoulder to scrutinise Kieran's reaction.

The younger man didn't seem to have a response and simply cleared his throat, clutching at the blanket and averting his eyes, though whether the ruddiness of his face was a blush or in response to the cold, Arthur couldn't quite tell, so he just huffed a laugh and slapped Kieran on the back.

"I'm just teasin' ya. Get some sleep," he said, laying himself down on his cot.

Kieran hesitated, but, eventually, Arthur heard the rustling sound of Kieran getting himself situated. He'd curled up on the ground nearby, swaddled up to his ears in Mary-Beth's blanket, murmuring a content little hum once he had arranged himself comfortably.

There was a moment of silence.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Hmph?" he grunted in response.

"Thanks."

Another grunt. The cot creaked as Arthur turned to face the wall, letting his eyes finally drift closed. "Don't mention it."

"No, really, Arthur, I--"

"Ever. To anyone."

A nervous chuckle -- "Right, then," -- followed by a yawn, "g'night, Arthur."

Kieran closed his eyes, not really expecting a response from the big, grumpy outlaw. And yet, as he readily fell into the embrace of sleep -- proper sleep, for once, with some semblance of comfort in the form of a coarse, handknitted blanket and a begrudging, temperamental guard dog -- he almost thought he heard a voice murmur "...Goodnight."

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I believe this was the first thing I ever wrote for this fandom, before all the Yeehawgust prompts. I just wanted to see Kieran taken care of instead of being left to sleep in the pouring rain.

A scorned Micah becomes jealous of Kieran and Mary-Beth's relationship and plots to eliminate the competition.

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"O-o-on this beautiful night...will you dance with me, Miss Mary-Beth?"

The lady in question reluctantly lifted her eyes from her book, warily glancing at the sweaty hand Micah offered. He'd asked nicely, at least, stumbling over the words in a clumsy attempt to recite something a more... gentlemanly suitor might say.

A less prudent girl might have given the man a chance, but Mary-Beth was not quite so naive as to expect pure intentions from Micah Bell.

"No, I will not," she said flatly, barely meeting his gaze. In all honesty, she would rather throw herself into the alligator-infested swamp, but she was polite enough not to say so. "You're...I've got two left feet," she huffed as she turned back to her book. The excuse was paper-thin, considering she had happily danced with Arthur at Sean's homecoming party.

Micah slowly retracted his hand at the rejection, spluttering weakly in what sounded almost like nervous laughter.

"I'm not a monster, Miss," he insisted.

She almost felt bad.

Almost.

She raised her head once more and looked him dead in the eye as she replied with honey-covered sarcasm:

"No, of course you're not... you're not that interesting."

He responded in the form of a grim chuckle that made Mary-Beth's skin crawl. He was back to his usual unsettling self, any pretense of civility vanishing in the blink of an eye.

"Very funny."

She watched him stalk away, her face contorted in revulsion. The uncomfortably tense atmosphere dissipated as her eyes fell instead upon those of another, looking back at her from where he was sitting against a crate just a couple paces away.

She thought it odd, since she'd never seen him sit in that spot before. His eyes expressed concern, and he offered a reassuring smile.

All at once, she understood why he had chosen to linger there at that particular moment, and it felt like she could breathe easily again. She patted the space beside her, inviting him over.

"So, you heard all that?" she sighed, setting her book aside.

"Yeah," Kieran affirmed, scrunching up his nose as he carefully sat himself beside her, leaning up against the wagon as he did every night.

It suddenly occurred to her that since they'd relocated to Shady Belle, he had taken to sleeping in her daytime reading spot. Their spheres of activity were overlapping more and more as they tried to spend more time together -- or, at least, as much as they could get away with without drawing too much attention. Neither of them fancied making their budding relationship known to all of camp like the tumultuous affairs of Dutch and Molly, or John and Abigail, or even Sean and Karen.

No, they wanted to take things slow, hoping that once this big final heist Dutch was planning paid off, they'd be free to pursue their relationship further, away from all this outlaw business. In the meantime they contented themselves with their usual time spent reading together, as well as any other excuse to be near each other in passing, often finding themselves sharing longing gazes from afar.

"You okay?" he asked, catching her lost in her thoughts. She felt Kieran's hand gently fall atop her own, warm and secure. Her hand shifted beneath his so that they were clasped as she focused back on him.

"I'm much better now," she smiled, squeezing his hand in hers. He reciprocated the expression, openly admiring the way she looked in the warm lantern light.

He didn't shy away from maintaining eye contact with her anymore, and it was exhilarating. She had discovered that his eyes, which more often than not appeared a dull grey, actually revealed themselves to be a stormy blue when the sun hit them just right.

She swooned, leaning into him. They stayed like that for a while, basking in the comfortable silence.

"...Kieran?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna dance with me?"

"But...there's no music."

"That don't matter," she chuckled, tugging him to his feet. "Come!"

She pulled him around to the unoccupied side of the mansion, out of view. He hesitated, allowing her to arrange their hands in their proper positions. The hand on her waist was gentle, almost afraid to put pressure. She squeezed the hand in hers once more, and started to hum the tune she remembered from Dutch's gramophone, prompting Kieran to start swaying along with her.

"'Fraid I'm not much of a dancer," he mumbled, awkwardly trying to follow her steps. "Can't say I ever really tried it."

A playful sigh fell from her lips.

"Oh, well...I guess I'm just going to have to help you get some more practice," she smirked. "Reading, dancing...is there anything else you would have me teach you, Mister Duffy?" she laughed.

Kieran didn't have a response but he did turn ever so slightly pink, much to her amusement. His eyes left hers for the briefest of moments to steal a glance at her lips, betraying his train of thought.

Suddenly, they stopped moving.

"Mary-Beth...?" Kieran asked anxiously. Had his clumsy steps disappointed her that badly?

She let go of his hand and instead slid her hands up to cradle his face. He froze in anticipation as she leaned in, standing on tiptoe to get level with him. She closed her eyes and puckered up her lips...

...and kissed him square on the nose.

"Gotcha," she giggled, snatching the hat off his head and placing it on her own.

" Wha --hey!"

Kieran recovered quickly, laughing as she attempted to evade him. She squealed as he caught her, hoisting her up by the waist and spinning her around until she had laughed herself sore. He set her down only to take her by the hand and slowly twirl her one more time.

"Mind yer head, Miss," he warned playfully, before gently sweeping her into a dip.

Unbeknownst to them, a certain unsavoury figure was lurking in the shadows, watching the giggling sweethearts with rage in his eyes. The girl who had shown no hesitation in rejecting him moments before was hopelessly fawning over the O'Driscoll, of all people? Micah's lip curled and he flicked his cigarette in disgust.

"The hell you doin', Micah?"

"Morgan," he drawled as he turned around, not bothering to hide what he'd been doing. "You don't seriously condone this, do you? That O'Driscoll getting all cute and cosy with our sweet, helpless Mary-Beth?"

"If you think Mary-Beth to be some helpless damsel in distress, I ain't sure what to tell ya," Arthur scoffed. Micah just clenched his fists.

"You know what I mean," he growled.

"No, Micah, I don't think I do." Arthur stepped forward, willfully exploiting his imposing stature as he glared Micah down. "You leave them kids alone. You understand me?"

Micah just grit his teeth in response.

"Whatever," he spat, turning his back on Arthur.

"And one more thing..."

Micah groaned, looking over his shoulder to narrow his eyes in annoyance.

"He ain't an O'Driscoll."

Bristling with indignation, Micah turned back only to find the pair of lovebirds parting ways for the night. He thought he would vomit in his mouth as he watched Mary-Beth kiss that damned boy on the cheek before scurrying into the house. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

What does that pathetic wet rag of a man have that I don't?!

Kieran, meanwhile, was walking back toward camp to settle in. He forced a nervous greeting as he passed Micah.

"Er, g'night , Mister Bell," he waved. Micah remained silent, glaring daggers at Kieran's back.

Smug little whelp.

If looks could kill, the poor boy would be dead several times over.

But alas, with ol' Morgan leaping to his defence like a stubborn guard dog, Micah knew he wouldn't be able to do so much as lay a single finger on the kid.

Unless...

Suddenly, an utterly sordid scheme unfolded in his mind -- maybe he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty at all. As he recalled, that Kieran had some old friends who were just dying to catch up with him. A malicious grin etched its way onto Micah's face.

Lenny and a hungover Sean join Kieran for an impromptu fishing trip.

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"Ughhh, I feel like dog shite..."

"Yeah, you look like it, too."

Sean didn't even have the willpower to respond to Karen's snark. He had a splitting headache and couldn't see straight. All he could do was groan, flopping over in his seat.

"Get off o' me, dammit!" Karen yelled as he dropped all his body weight against her. She shoved him off and whirled round, impulsively raising her hand to smack him, but the impact never came. Her face fell as she finally got a good look at him. 

He really did look terrible.

Well, more than usual, she thought to herself.

"Sean? How much did you drink last night?"

If he could think clearly, he might have reveled at the note of concern in her voice. Instead, he simply groaned again, his head pounding. Someone was chopping wood, the dog was barking, Grimshaw was yelling at Arthur for turning up to camp encrusted with dried blood...there was just too much noise.

"Hang on--"

Karen disappeared for a minute, returning shortly with Hosea in tow. Sean cringed, already sensing the unimpressed look the old man was giving him.

"What am I going to do with you, boy?" Hosea put a hand to Sean's forehead, staring into his unfocused eyes to gauge just how bad his condition was. He slapped the boy's cheek lightly a few times, earning a wince as each strike reverberated in his skull. "Come on, Sean."

"Pipe downnn...too loud," the ginger whined. Karen crossed her arms and looked to Hosea, who tutted and reluctantly called for Lenny.

"Lenny," he said as the boy came running over, "can you take Mr MacGuire here out of camp for a bit? He needs to rest somewhere quiet until his hangover wears off."

"Sure," Lenny agreed immediately. Hosea gave an appreciative nod and left the inebriated Irishman in his hands. Karen's blue eyes lingered on Sean a moment longer.

"Watch out he doesn't keel over and die on ya," she told Lenny, but the bite just wasn't there. Lenny wasn't sure what to make of it. After Karen had taken her leave, he crouched to wave a hand in front of his friend's face.

"Hey, can ya hear me?"

Sean slurred Lenny's name, laughed, and immediately regretted it, letting out a string of curses as he was hit by a sudden dizzy spell. Lenny made a face -- this wasn't going to be easy.

He slung one of Sean's arms over his shoulder, hoisting the man to his feet and dragging him along to the edge of camp. Sean was in no condition to ride, and Lenny didn't fancy sharing saddle and risking his passenger throwing up on his shoulder. Nope, they'd have to take the wagon.

The pair stumbled by the horse station, passing Kieran as he dutifully brushed the gang's mounts. He looked up and immediately voiced his concern.

"Uh, everythin' alright over there, fellers?"

"He'll be fine, just hungover like you wouldn't believe," Lenny assured him, even as he huffed under his companion's dead weight. "I'm just gettin' him outta camp for a bit. Hosea says some peace and quiet'll do him some good."

Kieran noticed him struggling and hesitantly asked if he needed a hand. Lenny paused, glancing at Sean, who groaned pitifully, barely able to keep his eyes open. He turned back to Kieran.

"Yeah, actually -- help me get this fool in the wagon."

Together, they hauled Sean onto the back of the wagon and laid him down gently. The lad promptly passed out and they tossed a blanket over him, making him as comfortable as they could.

"Heh, thanks," Lenny smiled as Kieran stepped away from the wagon. "For a skinny fella, he sure weighs a lot more than he looks."

Kieran just nodded, taking that as his cue to leave.

"Hey, you wanna come with us?"

"Eh?" He stopped in his tracks, looking back at Lenny in confusion. 

Had he heard right? Was he actually being invited to be part of something?

"I know you don't get out much," Lenny pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "And besides, he's hardly gonna be much company," he snorted, gesturing at Sean's unconscious form. Kieran's lips quirked into a small smile.

"Well, uh--I mean, yeah, alright," Kieran answered, nervously optimistic. "Where are y'all headed?"

Lenny's eyes turned skyward as he hummed in thought. "Ain't sure yet...just has to be quiet, away from the towns and away from trouble." 

"Hm..." Kieran scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Wait! I think I--I might know just the place. Just...give me a second--"

He took off, comically dashing over to where his few possessions were stored. Lenny watched as he scrambled around for something, buckets clanging as Kieran knocked them over in his excited haste. He soon returned with an armful of equipment, loading it carefully into the wagon. 

Fishing tackle, Lenny noted, glancing curiously over his shoulder. He'd never been particularly keen on the sport, but he wasn't going to tell Kieran that. Not when Kieran was beaming with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. He leaned over to offer a hand, pulling Kieran up onto the wagon seat beside him.

"Okay, then," he said, flicking the reins. "Let's go!"

"It's just over here, down through the trees."

Lenny followed Kieran's directions, carefully manoeuvering the wagon down as close to the shore as he could get it.

"There's a real catch lurkin' round here. Massive bluegill," Kieran told Lenny as the wagon pulled to a stop. "Arthur and I were down here the other day but we didn't manage to snag 'im." He jumped out of the seat, rushing to grab his fishing equipment, a determined grin plastered on his face. "Here's hopin' today's the day!"

Lenny had never seen Kieran so carefree. It was decidedly refreshing -- his personality was coming through, no longer squashed under layers of fear. Maybe he could actually get to know the guy a little, now that he was opening up.

"Arthur went fishing with you?" The surprise was evident in Lenny's voice as they got situated at the edge of the lake.

"M-hm," Kieran hummed, setting a bucket down by his feet and assembling his fishing rod.

"Well, damn. Seems you're really settling in, then, Kieran," Lenny said, taking a seat on one of the big rocks scattered along the shore. "If Arthur reckons you're okay, that's good enough for me."

Kieran paused to look over at him. "Yeah?"

"I mean, I don't really know you, but you don't seem like a bad fella to me," Lenny shrugged. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you gotta be the most unintimidating outlaw I ever met."

Kieran huffed a bitter laugh, looking down as he resumed fiddling with the rod. "I never exactly meant to become one, y'know. An outlaw."

"No one ever does." 

A silence settled between them while Kieran readied the special lake lure Arthur had tossed at him, saying it was just a little something he'd found and that Kieran would probably get more use out of it, keen fisherman that he was. 

He heard a faint rustling sound and looked over to see Lenny opening a book he'd brought to pass the time. Kieran's illiteracy had never bothered him too much before but he couldn't help but feel inadequate now, enviously watching Lenny turn the pages as his dark eyes chased the words across the page. His thoughts fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"...You close with Mary-Beth?"

Lenny lifted his eyes, making a face at the random question.

"We're friends, sure...why?"

Kieran kept his attention on the lake as he pulled the rod back to cast a line. "I don't know...you both love reading," he said, shrugging meekly. "You got somethin' in common is all."

"I mean, sure, we both like reading, but it ain't really something we bond over," Lenny told him. "I read to learn. She reads to escape. You know what I mean?"

Kieran wasn't entirely sure he did, but he gave a vague nod, recalling a snippet of an earlier conversation.

"So, the only thing that makes you happy...is being in your head somewhere else?" His silly little comment had made her laugh, flashing a wide, genuine smile that crinkled her blueish-green eyes. She was so pretty, he almost felt unworthy to look upon her.

"We ain't that close," Lenny's voice assured him, bringing him out of his memory. "Besides, rumour has it she's got her eye on someone." 

Kieran whipped around so quick he gave poor Lenny a fright, the book almost toppling right out of his hands.

"What--? Who?"

Before Kieran could pry any more information out of the poor kid, the pair were startled by the instantly recognisable sound of someone forcibly emptying the contents of their stomach. Turning, they found Sean sitting up, leaning over the side of the wagon as he gagged and puked.

"Charming," Kieran commented, wincing at the sight. Not for the first time, he was glad he didn't drink. He'd tried once or twice, but it had never ended well; he was appallingly lightweight, blindsided by just a couple of bottles. 

God knows how many Sean had in his system.

After a few minutes, the Irishman wiped his mouth on his sleeve, slipping down from the wagon. They could hear him cursing under his breath as he stumbled over to the beach.

"Well, look who's finally awake. Nice of you to join us."

"Sod off, Leonard," Sean spat. He squinted at Kieran's face, shaded by the brim of his hat. "That you, O'Driscoll?"

Kieran shot him a dirty look. He'd thought by now they were past that stupid misnomer. He grit his teeth to keep from snapping.

Gettin' mighty sick of this.

"My name's Kieran."

Sean scoffed and rolled his eyes, giving him a half-hearted shove. "Keep yer shirt on, Duffy, I'm just messin wit' ya." He plopped down onto the same perch as Lenny, leaning his elbow on his knee. "Movin' up in the world, you are. Playin' wit' the real big boys now," he snickered.

"Uh-huh," Kieran muttered, not at all convinced considering Sean had been lying comatose in the back of a wagon for half the day. 

"So, gents. Heh. What're we doing here?" Sean asked, finally registering his surroundings. Kieran took it upon himself to fill him in.

"We were only really out here on account of'you being drunk as a skunk and needin' somewhere quiet to rest your head."

"Ah," Sean laughed nervously. "Got the lot of us out of doin' chores, though, didn't I? Eh?" 

"You really oughta quit drinkin' so much, y'know. Ain't good for ya." 

"I appreciate yer concern, Duffy, but I'll do what I like, thank you very much," Sean retorted, conjuring a hidden flask out of his pocket.

"Hey--! Jesus, Sean, give it a rest!" Lenny scolded, snatching the flask away before Sean could bring it to his lips. "He's right, you'll kill yourself this way. Ain't you ever thought where you're gonna end up in a few years' time?" Lenny may have been the youngest of them, but in that moment, he sounded an awful lot like a disapproving parent lecturing a child. Sean just scoffed at him.

"Pfft, no. I'm a man o' the present, Lenny, I live in the now. Got no time to be worryin' what tomorrow'll bring." 

He tried to act brash and unaffected, but there was a note of doubt in Sean's tone. An uncertainty that they all felt but tried not dwell on too much. The silence settled in again, until--

"Whoa--!" 

All attention was on Kieran now as he perked up at a tug on the line. "I think I've got the big one, alright!" he cried, straining to fight against the pull. He struggled for a while, furiously reeling in the line when he was able to catch a break. Whatever he'd hooked wasn't giving up without a fight.

Kieran's boots were dangerously close to losing their grip on the shore. Another fierce jolt and his footing slipped.

"Shit--!"

"Gotcha!" Sean caught him by the shoulder, keeping him from tumbling into the water. "Tryin' to go for a swim, eh, Duffy?" he laughed.

"Shut up," Kieran smirked. "Help me out here." He continued wrestling with the line with Sean on standby to anchor him. "I...think I've almost...got 'im..." he grunted. "Almost--"

Lenny appeared on Kieran's other side to keep him steady as his feet threatened to slide on the bank once more. He and Sean watched on in amazement as Kieran finally reeled in his catch.

"Yes! I got it!" Kieran cheered, hauling in the biggest bluegill they'd ever laid eyes on.

"Would ya look at the bloody size o' that thing!" Sean hollered in disbelief.

"Not bad, Kieran," Lenny praised, clapping the grinning fisherman on the shoulder. "Pearson's gonna love this."

Kieran was brimming with pride. Actively bringing in food to put on the table was bound to earn him some respect from the gang. This could work out really well for him.

"I uh, think I grabbed some spare rods, if you fellers wanna try for yourselves," he invited the others as he unhooked his catch and tossed it in the bucket. Lenny and Sean looked at each other for a moment.

"Eh, what the hell, not doin' much else anyway...bet I can nab a better catch than you, Summers!" 

"Oh, yeah?" Lenny challenged. "Tell you what, you're on, and if you're wrong, you're gonna sit your ass down and read--ah, don't try to back out now--!"

They returned triumphantly that afternoon, all three of them crammed into the front seat, bantering like the best of friends. Sean was still sulking about losing the bet, Lenny was feeling very smug for the same reason, and Kieran, in the driver's seat, was feeling more hopeful than he had in a while. The smile hadn't left his face, seemingly stuck there while he basked in the feeling of being accepted and having everything go his way for once. It felt too good to be true.

Kieran parked the wagon, and they all clambered out. He happened to glance toward the camp and catch the one and only Mary-Beth looking over at him. If he didn't know better, he'd think she were blushing as they locked eyes, but no. Her cheeks were always rosy, weren't they? 

"Rumour has it she's got her eye on someone."

She smiled and waved at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He was still riding the day's high and couldn't even find it in him to second-guess her kind gesture. He could fret about Lenny's words later. For now, he offered a lopsided smile of his own, returning her gesture without a qualm.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he faltered for a split second, worried that Javier or one of the others had seen him wave at Mary-Beth and come to threaten him for pushing his luck. He was very relieved when it only turned out to be his companions, thrusting the bucket of fish into his hands and steering him towards the chuckwagon.

"Well, come on, then; we can't take all the credit!" they laughed.

Kieran smiled and allowed himself to be ushered away. He glanced at Sean and Lenny out the corners of his eyes as the three of them walked along. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had actual friends his age.

The long, lonesome highway he'd been travelling all these years was behind him now. Maybe, just maybe, his life was finally headed in a better direction.

The company was certainly better, that was for sure.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yes, this was literally just me looking for an excuse to have this trio hang out.

Mary-Beth finds herself getting hot and bothered in the summer heat, but the weather isn't entirely to blame...

(Spice warning!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Goodness, I had no idea it got so hot around here this time of year."

Mary-Beth laid on a picnic blanket on the riverbank just outside of town, the sun beating down just a little too harshly for her liking. Strawberry was a pretty little destination, with decent folks and not a lot of trouble. The quaint hotel had certainly served its purpose well and made for a very pleasant stay, but the sharply rising summer climate had been something of a surprise.

Kieran huffed in agreement as he wiped the sweat from his brow. As she so often did, Mary-Beth had swiped his hat and planted it on her own head, and, as always, he had let her get away with it, even if it meant sacrificing what little shade it afforded him. He put his fishing rod down for a moment, tugging at his collar.

"Lord above," he breathed, fingers coming up to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, "it's so dang hot, I reckon I'm gonna have to--"

Mary-Beth sat up out of curiosity, but before she could say a word, Kieran had pulled his shirt off, leaving him naked from the waist up with the exception of his braces, which he left slung over his bare shoulders. Her eyes raked over the lean muscles of his back and she felt her cheeks burn fiercely at what she saw.

As if it weren't a scandalous enough display already, the love bites and tiny crescent-shaped marks scattered over his fair skin certainly told a tale. Mary-Beth suddenly felt self-conscious, knowing that her own body was decorated much the same, evidence of their honeymoon escapades lovingly written all over her chest, her hips, her thighs...

Kieran turned to toss his shirt aside, sparing her a roguish smile over his shoulder as he did so. He winked mischievously with his one good eye before picking up his fishing rod once more, turning to face the river while his blushing wife continued staring, unable to take her eyes off him.

She suddenly recalled the heat wave that had passed through Lemoyne while they were camped out at Clemens Point. Her friends had quickly been left incapacitated; Karen by a violent bout of hay fever, and Tilly by heat exhaustion after working under the hot sun all day. Mary-Beth was left sitting alone in the shade, fanning herself vigorously in a futile attempt to keep cool.

And then Kieran had walked by, carrying a sack of grain over his shoulder. Mary-Beth was amazed that he was still performing his chores as usual despite the conditions. His dedication was admirable, to say the least. The heat had apparently gotten to him as well, prompting a slight alteration to his attire: he had forgone his hat, his dark hair shining with slick sweat, and his white undershirt was also noticeably absent, exposing a distracting strip of skin down the middle of his torso under his denim shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow as usual, baring his slender forearms. She eyed the veins she could see trailing up his arm and over his free hand, wishing she were daring enough to reach out and take it in hers.

"Hey, Mary-Beth," Kieran greeted her, breaking her out of her reverie. She met his eyes and found a sheepish, lopsided smile on his face. He was something of an enigma, managing to express both confidence and uncertainty at the same time, a quirk that Mary-Beth found endlessly fascinating.

"Oh, h--hey, Kieran," she replied a little breathlessly, putting on her best smile and hoping she didn't look as sweaty and gross as she felt.

Little did she know the effect the sight of her had on him, what with her wayward curls plastered across her forehead and her face flushed all red, her thin blouse clinging to her damp skin. He suddenly found himself at a loss for words, a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest as she peered up at him through her eyelashes, her lips slightly parted, almost panting in the unrelenting heat. His eyes went wide, and he hastily excused himself, leaving her to pout as she watched him all but flee from her company.

Kieran's crush on her was hardly a secret, but her feelings were a little less transparent. By that time, she readily considered him a dear friend, but she also knew it was more than that. She wanted it to be more than that.

After getting to know him better, Mary-Beth had gradually come to acknowledge that what she felt towards Kieran was more than just innocent friendship. He was so very sweet, and after discreetly staring at him throughout several reading lessons, she had surprised herself with the revelation that he was actually kind of handsome, in his own unique way. She adored the time they spent together, feeling a warmth in her heart whenever he'd send a sunny smile her way, or confide in her about things he felt were important, knowing she was one of the few who actually cared enough to listen.

Too many times, her friends had rolled their eyes as they caught her watching Kieran haul the saddles around with ease, captivated by the quiet show of strength. "Of course you'd go and fall for the resident outcast," Karen had snickered, a claim that Mary-Beth had bashfully denied. Eventually, though, she had to admit to herself that she had, in fact, entertained thoughts of what it might be like to be his lover.

Those lucky horses, she sighed, having those gentle hands tend them so carefully...

Mary-Beth caught herself imagining what his calloused fingers would feel like brushing over her skin, their rough texture contrasted by the gentleness of his touch. Or better yet, what might happen if she was the one taking care of him the way he so deserved, making him feel good in ways she'd only read of in her novels. She knew a lady ought not to indulge such fantasies, and she felt more than a little guilty for it, struggling to look Kieran in the eye as she tried to stifle her vivid imagination. Yet deep down, in the hidden corners of her heart, she craved nothing than to know what her poor stable boy looked like with his face contorted in bliss, writhing and whimpering out of pleasure instead of fear.

Yes, Mary-Beth was crushing terribly hard on Kieran Duffy, and for all her supposed expertise on the topic of romance, she hadn't the slightest idea what to do about it. Sure, she could attempt to mimic things she had read, but it only made her feel foolish, like a little girl playing pretend. She wasn't one of those bold, sophisticated romantic leads who knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it, propriety be damned. She was just an orphan pickpocket running with a gang of outlaws, with little means and far too much imagination.

And besides, what would Kieran think of her if she were to take her cues from the pages of racy dime novels? He was always such a gentleman with her; the last thing she wanted was to drive him away by being too brazen. No, that just wouldn't do. She'd just have to keep her fantasies to herself, idly daydreaming about the most foolish of things, like whether he snored in his sleep, or if his beard was softer than it looked, or if his kiss would be as sweet and true as she imagined.

Now that they were happily married, the newly wedded Mrs Duffy was pleased to say that at long last, she'd had the opportunity to thoroughly answer her younger self's burning questions. Kieran did snore, sometimes, but it was a soft and oddly reassuring sound that she had come to take comfort in, listening to the rhythm of his breath as he laid in bed next to her. His beard, while it looked coarse and scruffy, wasn't scratchy at all when he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck; it tickled her skin and made her giggle, which, in turn, would make him smile, a small expression of content that made everything seem right with the world.

And his kiss...oh, the way he kissed her. Gently, but full of longing; he never pressed for anything more than she was willing to give, his lips lingering faintly like a request for permission -- a request she was more than happy to grant, indulging herself in his tender brand of affection. He kissed her as if every time would be the last.

Kieran was everything she could have hoped for in a lover -- generous, thoughtful, and eager to please. He had already proven during their reading lessons that he was utterly dedicated and a very quick learner when he set his mind on something, and matters of the heart were no exception. The only difference now was that Mary-Beth was just as much the pupil as he was, equally inexperienced in the art of romance outside of her silly books.

Their wedding night's first foray into the uncharted territory of lovemaking had been tentative at first, the nervous energy crackling between them as they slowly helped each other out of their clothes, mesmerised by every new part uncovered as each layer fell away until there was nothing left to hide.

"I won't lie to ya, Mary-Beth, I'm scared as hell," Kieran blurted out as he watched her recline herself on the bed, beckoning him to join her.

"Of little old me?" she chuckled softly, reaching for his shaking hand to pull him nearer, their matching rings glinting in the candlelight. Her hand was warm and her smile even warmer. "Don't be."

"Y'know what I mean..." he mumbled, meekly allowing her to guide him so he was hovering over her. "I don't know what I'm doing. I can't promise I'll be any good at this," he frowned.

She huffed out a shaky laugh of her own, her own nerves showing through briefly. "Well, I can't either, but that don't matter," she assured him. "Just means we'll have to get plenty of practice, don't you think?" She watched him gulp at her suggestion, a promise that they would inevitably be doing this many, many more times in the future.

"You...you sure you want this?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, just in case Mary-Beth had come to her senses in the few hours since they'd exchanged vows and realised this was all a horrid mistake.

Silly man, Mary-Beth chastised fondly. Here they were, lawfully man and wife, naked as Adam and Eve in the garden, wrapped in each other's arms as they sank into the bedsheets, yet still he hesitated.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she told him, draping her arms around his neck, ever careful of his glaring scar. His breathing hitched and his eye fluttered closed as she pulled him down slightly so she could plant a kiss just under his scruffy jaw, gingerly trailing her way down the column of his throat. "...Do you want this, Mr Duffy?" she whispered against his skin, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

She knew she didn't really need to ask -- she could already feel his answer in the shiver that ran down his spine and the soft little noise that came out of him as she lifted her hips to brush against him ever so slightly. That one little sound was intoxicating to her senses, and she immediately wanted to hear it over and over again. Before she could make another move, Kieran's lips were suddenly on hers in a searing, passionate kiss that stole her breath away and set her whole body alight.

I'll take that as a yes, she smiled to herself. She had a feeling everything would work out just fine.

And it appeared she was right, if the euphoric, stunned afterglow that followed was any indication.

That first encounter was quickly followed by a second, and later a third, their shyness melting away like winter into spring, giving way to an insatiable craving that had kept them thoroughly preoccupied for the last week and a half. They had spent most of their first fortnight of marriage struggling and failing to keep their hands off one another. Even now, the memories gave her butterflies and she squirmed, pressing her legs together as she felt that warm tingling sensation well up inside her again.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her husband's voice from the water's edge.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Kieran smirked knowingly. "You've been undressin' me with your eyes for near on ten minutes now."

Mary-Beth snorted. "Well, you've already done half the work for me," she retorted, gesturing at his topless figure.

"Okay, you got me there," he laughed, the light reflecting off the river's surface and dancing across his steel blue eye. Mary-Beth felt her heart swell at the sight of him, struck once more by how healthy and beautiful he looked now, scars and all. The man before her was a far cry from the pitiful captive she had met nearly a year ago.

She stood and made her way over to her husband, reaching to embrace him from behind while simultaneously settling his hat back in its rightful place on his head, a chaste peck accompanying the gesture. "Happiness looks very good on you, Mr Duffy."

"I got you to thank for that, Mrs Duffy," he played right back, turning his head to gaze at her in adoration. "Probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

Mary-Beth didn't like to think about that. Her whole world had nearly come crashing down around her when Arthur and the others retrieved Kieran from the O'Driscolls' clutches, beaten, blinded and drenched in his own blood. For one terrible moment Mary-Beth feared they were too late, that she'd lost him forever. She didn't dare to imagine what might have happened if she hadn't begged them to go looking for him when she did.

That scare had been all the resolve she needed to finally confess, sitting at his bedside with his pale hand in hers, a single stormy blue eye gazing at her from his bandaged face as if her presence alone were enough to sustain him. As so often happened when she put pen to paper, she found that the right words just wouldn't come, but her desperate, teary-eyed kiss conveyed all that needed to be said in a way that left no room for misunderstanding.

Mary-Beth held Kieran a little tighter. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost you," she murmured solemnly. "A good man like you is hard to come by."

"I thought I was a strange, horrible O'Driscoll," he teased. Mary-Beth winced, still remorseful about her tactless handling of that early conversation.

"I never apologised for what I said," she mumbled into his shoulder. She stepped around to his front, sliding her hands up to cup his bearded face as she fixed him with her green eyes. "I'm sorry, Kieran. You're not horrible, and you're definitely not an O'Driscoll. You never were," she said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "I still think you're a little strange, though," she smiled, punctuating the statement by booping him playfully on the nose.

"You're rather interestin' yourself, ma'am," he retorted, earning a gasp of mock offence from Mary-Beth, who matched his grin with one of her own.

"Why, Kieran! How so?"

"Look at you, darlin'," he drawled sweetly, letting his fishing rod simply drop from his hand as he devoted all his attention to his beloved wife. "Smart, and kind, and absolutely stunnin'..." His arms encircled her hips, reining her in until their bodies were firmly pressed against each other. "You could have any feller in the world, but you chose to settle down with the likes of me." He scanned her face in quiet wonder, as if he still didn't believe the moment was real. "That's just plain strange, if you ask me."

"Good thing I ain't askin', then," Mary-Beth huffed defiantly, seizing him by the braces and yanking him down for a feverish kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth to pry another of those happy little sounds out of his throat. Kieran's eye was glazed over with desire when she released him, running her hand down the front of his bare chest, where she could feel his heart thudding under her fingertips. He subconsciously sought friction against her hips and whined when she purposely moved out of reach. "Need help cooling off, handsome?" she purred deviously.

Before her slack-jawed husband could say anything, she gave him a little shove, sending him stumbling into the river. He barely had time to right his footing before she was wading out after him, bending to splash a spray of water up at him and giggling like a little girl as he splashed her right back. The water fight continued for several minutes as they chased each other around like children at play, the game only coming to an end when they collided and both fell into the water with a squeal. Out of breath, rosy-cheeked and soaked from head to toe, they lifted each other to their feet, chuckling as they shared a wet hug.

"I love you," Mary-Beth smiled dreamily, lifting a hand to straighten Kieran's eyepatch that had been knocked askew during their game.

"I love you more," he insisted, leaning in to silence the objection he could already see forming on her lips. She happily yielded, tugging at the dripping strands of his hair as she melted into him, that warm, hazy feeling dancing over her entire body. His beard tickled her face as he pulled away just enough to move his attention to her neck, pushing her wet hair out of the way so he could tenderly kiss one of the little purple marks he had already left upon her freckled skin.

"...I suppose we oughta get out of these wet clothes," Kieran murmured seductively in her ear. Mary-Beth swooned helplessly.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any hotter...

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This one is treading DANGEROUSLY close to smut territory, but it's still primarily fluff. As usual, I got a little carried away but I always get really invested and enjoy writing for these two. I love them so much <3

Just a little vignette of a conversation between Abigail and John following the events of the mission "Trying Again".

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"He's real attached to that dog of his, huh?"

John lingered at the doorway, staring at his twelve-year-old son, fast asleep on a rug on the living room floor, clinging to his beloved pet.

"He was awfully fond of the last one, too, you remember. Cain?" Abigail stopped drying the dishes for a moment, furrowing her brow as she recalled the affectionate stray that had wandered into their midst all those years ago. "Never did find out where that pup got to...Jack was looking all over for him."

"Maybe he just moved on," John shrugged, keeping his arms crossed. "Mutt didn't actually belong to any of us in the first place."

Abigail sighed, resuming her task, carefully wiping and stacking the dinner plates.

"Like you say, the boy's got a real soft spot for his dogs. Can you blame him? He ain't never had any friends his own age."

John stewed silently on his wife's words, watching the boy and his dog breathe in sync while they napped in front of the fire.

"...That was a mighty fine thing you did, John," he heard Abigail say. "Saving poor Rufus like that, I mean. I know it means the world to the boy."

"Of course."

Jack would never have forgiven him if Rufus had succumbed to that snake bite. Thankfully, the dog would make a full recovery, but whether John's awkward, standoffish relationship with his son could be as easily remedied, he wasn't so sure.

When did things get this way? John wondered. A few years ago, his son had been all too eager to seek his father's recognition, but at some point, Jack had grown up and was no longer that wide-eyed little boy. These days, he met his father's attempts to bond with reluctance and suspicion, far too cynical for a kid so young.

I'm trying my best, but...maybe it just ain't enough, John lamented.

Gentle arms wound their way around him and he instinctively relaxed into the warmth they offered, finally prying his gaze from the sleeping pair.

"I know you ain't never been a dog person," Abigail chuckled, resting her head on John's shoulder.

"They're not that bad," John admitted. "They have their uses -- Rufus here might make a decent cattledog someday, who knows."

"He's a retriever, John. Y'know, a gun dog."

"Since when are you the dog expert, ma'am?" John teased, quirking an eyebrow as he turned in her arms to face her.

"I ain't!" she insisted, arms sliding up to clasp behind his neck instead. "Jack was tellin' me so. He's been readin' all about 'em," she told him proudly. John shook his head.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"He's a smart boy. No telling where he got it from," Abigail smirked, her sharp blue eyes glinting with mischief. John grinned, playing right along with her.

"I'm a fool, no doubt about it," he said, wrapping her up in his arms and leaned in so their noses were brushing each other. "But...you're still here, so I figure I must've done at least something right."

"Hmmm..." She narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her nose as she considered him. "I suppose you ain't completely terrible," she mumbled against his lips, their heads tilting just so--

"Oh, you two are gonna make me sick."

It was Uncle, his timing impeccable as ever, having casually wandered into the room at just that moment.

"Do you mind?"

"What? I live here, too, you know!"

"Keep your voices down, they're sleepin'!" Abigail hissed at the bickering men, pointing out the sleeping boy and dog in the next room.

"Ah, man's best friend. Ain't nothin' more loyal than a good ol' dog," Uncle nodded sagely. "Think you oughta keep this one on a tighter leash, though," he grumbled, jerking his thumb in John's direction.

Abigail wisely leapt in before said dog could bite the old man's head off.

"Oh, go on, away with ya. Shoo!"

Uncle waddled away into the living room for the evening, where he would keep an eye on their young charges. Abigail watched him go, shaking her head with something between a chuckle and a sigh. She turned to look sympathetically at John, who gave a disgruntled frown. The expression was swiftly kissed right off his face, and, as always, he caved to her immediately. He seemed out of breath by the time she released him.

"See, you are a good boy," Abigail whispered, smirking once more. She moved from his lips to purr in his ear. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

She left a fleeting peck on his scarred cheek and turned back to the stack of plates, gathering them in her arms to return them to the cupboard, only to find them swiftly taken off her hands and put in their place by one decidedly more impatient than she. Before she knew it, she was being scooped up herself and carried to the bedroom.

Her soft giggle echoed in the hallway as the door fell shut behind them.

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I sincerely apologise if this one is lacking; the writer's block hit hard ;_;