Clean was never Arthur's cup of tea, whether it was clothes or the general environment he found himself in. He was a rough outlaw, used to muddy streets, dust, and blood all over him, so this was unusual, this whole... 'Waking up in a warm, clean bed with a warm body near' type of clichè that Mery-beth and the other girls at camp kept dreamily chanting about.

Yet, here he was, wrapped in silky sheets with warmth all over him, a sweet scent coating everything around. He groaned and slowly raised from the soft mattress, his eyes ending up on your form, already up and starting to dress with those fancy fabrics that could buy him, if not all the camp, new horses.

He forgot when you two started this, maybe it was when you offered him a place to stay the night after he was being tracked down by the local police, or maybe when you decided to fundraise Dutch and the rest of the camp, not that he cares much... As long as the others are okay.