Chapter Text
In the late Spring of 1882, after weeks of hunting down Cowboys in vengeance of Morgan’s death, the vendetta splits apart for a short amount of time.
They’re aiming to use this to their advantage, in hopes of catching more and more Cowboys by surprise.
Doc and Wyatt go off to the south of Arizona, while Creek and Jack ride into Mexico, leaving McMasters to fend for himself, given he was a former Cowboy.
Outside of Prescott, Wyatt chooses an area by a stream of water to camp out for the night.
He carefully helps Doc off his horse before they tie them to one of the trees nearby, and quickly get a fire going.
By the fire, as their food cooks, there’s a peaceful silence between the two men. The sound of the water’s current flowing through the river and sloshing together, crickets singing as the birds settle into sleep.
It was moments like these that made Doc actually appreciate life. Not just his own, but life in general. It made him consider things more seriously.
As Wyatt takes the first taste of the soup that had been cooking over the fire, he lets out a satisfied hum, and starts to pour a serving for Doc.
Doc watches curiously, his brow quirking ever the slightest. “I believe I can prepare my own dinner, Wyatt.”
Wyatt, handing the bowl of soup to Doc, laughs a bit a shakes his head. “Just bein’ nice,” he says.
“Gentlemanly,” Doc corrects, taking the warm bowl of soup gratefully.
“What?”
“Gentlemanly. You’re quite the gentleman, perhaps you don’t realize it.” Doc explains, tasting the creamy soup atop his tongue.
“Oh,” Wyatt muses, going silent for a moment. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Doc says. “don’t be so surprised.”
Wyatt ponders for a moment, stirring around his spoon in the soup. “Ma always raised us to be respectful.”
“I’m aware. I once cursed in front of your mother, and she gave me the look of death. It was quite frightening.”
Wyatt raises his head, and makes eye contact with Doc, looking a bit confused. “When was this?”
“The only time I have crossed paths with her. When you took me to meet your parents, do you not recall?”
“I do. I just didn’t know you were talkin’ to her,” Wyatt says, his gaze shifting down into his bowl of hot soup.
“A few times I did. She was rather.. kind. Reminded me of someone,” Doc replies, his lips curling into a grin.
Wyatt lazily sips on his soup, then pulls away with a sigh, before setting the half-empty bowl down by his boots. He catches Doc’s grin, and realizes what the man had meant. “Me?”
Doc nods, his grin growing into a sweet smile. “Yes, you.”
“You’re full of compliments tonight,” Wyatt points out, starting to smile, too.
“I’m only speaking the truth, Wyatt.”
A moment of silence goes by, where they just stare and smile at each other, unable to take their eyes away and focus on something else.
They’re out here for Morgan, seeking vengeance for him, and although it’s a sad circumstance, Doc and Wyatt cannot help themselves. Happiness made its way into their life at odd times.
After sharing a few kisses by the crackling fire, they head to bed, and lay back on their bedrolls.
As the sky seems to darken further, Doc finds himself unable to sleep. He silently rolls onto his side and faces Wyatt, almost immediately noticing the twinkle shining from the man’s piercing blue eyes.
Doc smiles and scoots himself closer to Wyatt, until they’re pressed up against each other, providing more heat against the cool night.
“Wonder what Morgan’s thinkin’ about all this,” Wyatt ponders, his eyes trained on the starry sky above.
Doc turns his head and glances up at the other’s face, considering the thought. “I’m sure he’s cheering you on, Wyatt. Watching over you.”
A small sound escapes Wyatt, and Doc believes it was a crack or a sob, but he’s not entirely sure. “Gotta back my brother’s play.”
“Hm?” Doc mutters, still looking up at Wyatt’s face, which he can partly see due to the moonlight.
Wyatt meets his gaze, and blinks. “Morgan said that back in town, when we was getting involved with everything. He said.. he figured it was what I’d do, back my brother’s play.”
Doc swallows the lump forming in his throat, then watches as Wyatt does the same. “Oh. Well.. that was considerate of him.”
“Very,” Wyatt nods, his gaze returning upwards.
“He was always such a nice fellow,” Doc says, following Wyatt’s eyes to the sky. “I always considered him a friend. A good one, too. You Earp’s have a way about you.”
There’s some laughter escaping Wyatt, and it makes Doc join him.
Following their conversation in the dark, both men finally start to grow tired enough, and drift off to sleep.
Sleeping peacefully together, they are unaware of the approaching footsteps, twigs snapping and leaves crunching in their wake.
But, to their demise, they stay asleep.
After a relatively loud noise, Wyatt stirs, and raises up. Before he can register what is going on, something connects with his head, sending him backwards.
Doc jostles awake, and finds that his head is throbbing from a blow, which comes not once, but twice.
After that, there’s nothing but complete darkness for the both of them.