You were never supposed to be someone to Dutch. It was supposed to be an easy thing. Just sex. Nothing more.

Smoke comes from his mouth as he breathes out a silent sigh. He is naked, as are you. You’re resting your head on his chest and your finger is tracing the outline of his scars, a result of years of being an outlaw. He takes another drag of his cigar.

'Just sex' became cuddling afterwards. It became fleeting words at the campfire, shared meals, subtle touches, lingering glances. 'Nothing more' became something more.

"I've been thinking," He starts, the smoke leaving his lips as he spoke. "About this. Us, I mean."