Work Text:
“I’m in love with you.”
It’s… too heavy. Too heavy when Hosea’s just trying to smoke, not even looking at him. Too heavy when it’s late and the air is muggy and there are mosquitoes zipping around their faces.
Hosea’s head turns and Dutch can’t even feign confidence, staring at the mud beneath his boots like maybe he’ll start sinking if he looks hard enough.
Dutch watches Hosea’s cigarette fall into the mud, watches Hosea crush it with his boot. Feels his rough fingers on his jaw, turning his head gently. He’s made to look at the older man again, with no way out. Their faces are so close, he would just have to lean forward a couple of inches to –
“Don’t go all bashful on me now, Dutch van der Linde,” says Hosea, “You should know I love you, as well. Thought it went without saying.”
“You know I’m dense sometimes,” Dutch struggles to say with Hosea’s hand on his face.
“No, you aren’t.” Hosea leans in, and kisses him. Like they’ve done a hundred times before, in a hundred ways, in a hundred places.
Dutch unshrinks himself, standing straight and cradling Hosea’s head. His fingers run through greying hair, Hosea’s thumb rubs against the stubble on his cheek. There’s a tongue in Dutch’s mouth, another hand resting on his hip, and Hosea is pushing him back into their tent. Dutch fumbles with the things on his cot blindly, just as Hosea pushes him down onto it.
There’s a weight on his lap, and they part. “I really do love you, Dutch. And, you know, life isn’t too kind to people who love eachother. Especially not in our line of work. Whatever happens, I hope you will remember that I love you.”
“That’s real pretty, Hosea,” replies Dutch. “Whatever happens.”