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They're on their way to fucking.They're very on their way, in this bed, in this bed they've slept in a couple nights.He likes this place. Although, the fact he's paying attention to it at all is pretty strange. Back when he and Micah Senior used to roam, there was no choice. Lot of nights spent out in barns when Micah Senior would take bedrooms. It was normal.But this room is nice -- small, lit with gas lamps, old quilts on the bed. The bed's tall enough and Bill had given him an extra pillow, remembered the way he likes sleeping against 'em, neck crooked sidewise.Bill and him are in Van Horn. It was kind of tough -- Bill was healing from that final shootout when Dutch's gang had shattered. Dutch was... off somewhere, he guesses, went to go look for something, but he'd never bunk with them even if he was here. Knows better not to.But the situation was nice too. They could play tourist without having to be proper -- Bill and him could get dinner and feed each other off forks but just as easy turn guns on anyone who even looked at 'em strange. Bill certainly was more cagey about the affection. Preferred to keep it close and hidden."Intimacy," he had said, but Micah knew better. It was fear, through and through. Bill -- Marion, the name he had shared, the name he was going under and born as, the name Micah can't keep out of his mouth -- still shuddered at the thought of his old lover, who was gutted like a fish for having the gall of loving Marion.Fuck him, Micah thinks, Marion should only think of me -- I never manage to die when I should.But Van Horn was kind of nice, in a shitty way.The two of them had made a kind of day of it today -- went down to the river and sat there for a couple hours just talking -- Bill whittled and Micah just talked to him and skimmed stones and picked wildflowers and grass that he'd dump on Bill's head until Bill finally got fed up and yanked Micah next to him, kissing him deep enough that Micah sat still for all of a minute. And then it'd repeat, until Micah was tucking flowers into the braid around Bill's hat, and Bill hung a hand off Micah's hip, staring up at him with those big soft eyes, and it was their version of quiet and peaceful.Dinner was nice -- a real fancy thing, fancy as Van Horn gets, bought with someone else's money. Nice until some drunk asshole bumped into Bill hard enough to spill soup over him and then Micah was slamming the man against the bar and stabbing his hand into it. After the fucker ran off, hand bleeding, some gals started trying to flirt with him, but he'd just grinned and said "I'm here with my man," and left with Bill before the check came.And Micah had pulled him up the stairs into their familiar-unfamiliar bed and popped open the buttons of Bill's shirt, freeing those beautiful tits, and they had started kissing and groping, and that brings it up to now, Micah straddling Bill's broad hips.He's grinding back against Marion, who's gripping his hips hard and biting his lip the way Micah knows -- oh god, and he knows it, feels a sweet warmth when he sees it, that's so new --And Micah leans down to kiss him sweet and hot, like cinnamon candy, and whispers "Ain't you my sweet husband, Marion Bell."And Marion takes in a breath too quick, fingers tightening on his hips, and then-And then he's crying?Oh god he's crying.Why is he crying?Micah sits back up and dismounts Marion. Kneels and bends beside him, nestled in between his body and arm. Cups his face real gentle and says, all tight and sudden -- "Aw fuck, what'd I do- Sorry, baby, what'd I do?"And it's weird to him that he cares.He cares about his partners, but only in a loose kind of way: Sex was better with people who wanted to keep doing shit, that was obvious.But he cares about Marion in a way that the sudden tears have him worried that he hurt the man he loves, the man he's loved since the day he joined up with the Van der Lindes, when he settled next to Bill on a log and Bill handed him the last bread roll in camp (and Micah had heard that it was the last, and that Bill loved the bread rolls, and Bill said nothing, didn't even look, but griped at Pearson about the stew instead.) The roll had been already buttered and was still fresh-toasted and warm and it had been a moment where Micah's stomach had twisted with a tenderness he'd forgotten the day he'd buried his daddy in the red, red dirt.And Marion is crying, for sure, but he's looking at Micah with those big eyes and reaching his arms out -- and then he's crushing Micah in his hold and pressing tickly little kisses along his neck."Nothing," Marion says, "Nothing wrong. Just got worked up at --" and he breathes, "husband."Micah laughs, weakly."Yeah, baby," he chuckles, pressing his own kisses to Marion's neck -- it smells like his soap and that's a stab of fondness too -- "you're my husband. Of course you are." "Tell you what," Micah says, again, later, after Bill kissed him sweet and stripped him down to bare skin and they'd pressed scar-against-scar, "Why don't you fuck me like a husband would, huh?"And Marion does, murmuring in his ear the word "husband" over and over, until it loses its meaning, until the word alone makes him jolt with pleasure.The next day Bill murmurs quietly in his ear "my darling husband" and it's promising to be a permanent thing with them.