The Night Shift: A Red Dead Redemption 2 AU

xi. Morning Glory

The morning light in the cabin was dimmed. From where she lay in her bed in the loft, pinned by Arthur's arm, Mia could see snow piled in the skylights.

Mia absentmindedly traced the inked horseshoe on the back of Arthur's hand, but his light snoring continued unabated. She experimented with wriggling within his grasp and then, finally, slid out from under it. He remained asleep. She seized her pyjama pants and top from where they stuck out of her bag and dressed, then crept down the ladder to the cabin's main floor.

The percolator sat ready on the stove, already filled with water and coffee. Arthur really had planned for everything. Not to be outdone, she raided the cooler for some eggs and the leftover cress, a small triangle of sharp cheese. She got the coffee going as she assembled a strata - her old college standby breakfast - in a little skillet with the heel of the previous night's bread, throwing it into the oven with the satisfaction that she'd cooked something for Arthur, for a change.

Evidence of their incredible evening had been mostly cleared by Arthur sometime in the night; their wine glasses washed and drying on a kitchen towel, the fur from the sofa folded and draped neatly over the backrest. Mia touched at the bruise he'd bitten into her shoulder, smiled at its light ache, that not everything from their night together had been scrubbed away.

Once the coffee bubbled to life in its pot, Mia poured herself a cup and doodled in her notebook, thinking back to Arthur's restaurant, the one he wanted to build out in the woods. She could only daydream so far, and turned on her phone to search for a photo of a large cabin or lodge to reference.

Two texts from John awaited her.

Hey Auntie Mia, it's snow city out there. You want to come sledding?

The second text was a photo of Jack, bundled to his eyes in a massive, puffy snowsuit. Mia grinned.

First of all, adorable.

I'm hunkered down for the day. Thanks for the invite, though.

Suit yourself.

Came John's reply. She didn't know why she wasn't honest with John about where she was. The teasing, for one. But, deeper down, she supposed it was because she wasn't sure how Arthur felt about the two of them; if he'd intended to carry on, or clean up what they'd done just as he had the night before, leaving no trace.

Mia frowned, looking down at her drawing of the lodge, the small sign she sketched into the foreground, then checked on the food. The oven, to her immediate dismay, wasn't even hot.

"Shit!" She shouted, then clapped her hand over her mouth. But she heard stirring in the loft, then saw Arthur, climbing down the ladder rather nimbly for his size, looking slightly dishevelled, shirtless.

"Well, that don't sound good." She'd been worried he'd be distant, but he approached her easily, held her to him and kissed her mouth before breaking off to pour himself a coffee. "What's all this?"

Mia pouted. "It was supposed to be breakfast, but the oven didn't turn on."

Arthur opened the oven door and peered inside. "Looks good. But you have to light it, first." Mia was embarrassed as he lit the oven with a long match and then got it heating. "What're you doin' down here?"

"I told you, Chef, giving you a break. Or hoping to, anyway."

"That's sweet, but I meant this." Arthur leaned over Mia's drawings, leafing through the pages of sketches, her messy writing. He scoffed, "No talents, pfft," then smiled at her.

Gently, she took the notebook from him, pointing at the final page, the ski lodge she'd drawn. "I couldn't stop thinking about your restaurant, the one you want to make," she said. "Like, what if it were an overnight, with places for guests to sleep. They could get shuttled in during the day, go on a forage with Charles, or learn about wines, there's a winery not far from here."