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Sean was in the gang only for a month but he already knew what he could and couldn’t do. And one of the most important rules was – never piss off Arthur Morgan.
The man was huge, so that’s the one reason not to do it, he could probably break Sean in half with just his pinky. The others included Morgan being the best gunslinger Sean had ever seen, a mean son of a bitch that rarely smiled and he was one of Dutch’s favorites so if you got on his bad side, you got on Dutch’s bad side and Sean didn’t want that.
He liked the gang, the bond all the members shared. And the money he was getting from jobs. So no, Sean wasn’t in a hurry to become Morgan’s enemy and get killed by him. But that never stopped him from annoying the older man.
Arthur was dangerous, yes, but it was also taking a lot of time to really rile him up. Even if you would call him an idiot, he would usually just agree with you. To piss him off you would have to try very hard, like risking someone else's life on the job or talking about sensitive topics and Sean never crossed that thin line which would result in certain death.
Few things could really angry Morgan. Sean learned them during his first few days in the gang. No one told him the rules, he just picked them up himself. When you like to annoy people for laughs, you tend to learn quickly what you absolutely shouldn’t do.
Sean guessed that one of the things that could grant him a bullet to the head, was Arthur’s hat. Which was a shame, since it was a nice fucking hat. A little worn out, clearly old, but still nice. A real cowboy hat from the wild west he read so much about before coming to America. Sean would like to wear it, maybe just try it for a minute or two but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that the hat was practically sacred. Morgan was almost never taking it off, he was even sleeping with it from time to time. He was almost as possessive of that thing as of his horse. And he was really possessive of that damn animal. One would think the horse was shitting gold with how much Morgan didn’t like anyone touching the mare.
Sean came to terms he would never even touch Morgan’s hat, not to mention wear it for even a second. He didn’t even care about that anymore, actually, he almost forgot about it. Only sometimes he would still look at it with dreamy eyes, like right now, during early morning.
Morgan was already up, had been for a while now because his cup of coffee was empty and the man was writing something in his journal. Another sacred thing, Sean realized, shooting a glance at it once in a while while drinking his own coffee. He sat beside Arthur, for once not bothering the man and leaving him alone.
He was almost finished when he heard steps behind himself and Arthur. He looked back and saw John Marston walking towards them. Another mean son of a bitch, another Dutch’s favorite. Sometimes Sean thought Marston was even worse than Morgan. He didn’t look that dangerous and mean, most of the time he looked like a young kid who couldn’t hurt a fly. But while he wasn’t overall that intimidating like Arthur, he was worse in one thing. He could get angry rather fast. Ridiculously so. What wouldn’t even make Morgan look your way, could end up with a punch to the face from Marston, so Sean tended to stay away from him a little bit more than from Arthur.
For a moment, Sean was scared that John wanted to murder him. He looked like he was looking for something to punch and that something could as well be Sean’s face. He had no idea what pissed off Marston this early in the morning but he really hoped the older man was going to pass them and go to the coffee instead.
He didn’t. Sean tensed but Marston ignored him, focusing on Arthur. Well, their fight would be interesting but that’s not what John had in mind. He didn’t attack, he didn’t say anything, he just grabbed Morgan’s hat off his head and walked away just like that.
Sean was shocked, only after a few moments he noticed Marston had laid down under one of the trees, with Arthur’s hat covering his eyes. He fell asleep just like that, like he didn’t just wake up after the night.
Sean turned his head to Morgan, who didn’t even seem to notice his hat was gone or that his hair was a little bit ruffled without it. He continued to write in his journal, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.
Marston gave him back his hat around noon. Well, not gave, he was just walking by and Arthur took it back, just like Marston took it from him.
“Sorry,” John said apologetically. “I wanted to take a nap and my hat is god knows where.”
“What was you doing the whole night if you was still tired in the morning, Johnny?” Arthur teased him, putting the hat back on its rightful place on his head.
“I don’t know.” John glared at him. “Do YOU?”
Arthur smirked smugly in response to that, patted Marston on the shoulder and left. When John turned around, seemingly completely obvious to Sean, his face was a little red for some reason but he was smiling, pleased with something he was remembering.
That evening, Sean finally took his chance. If John could steal Morgan’s hat and live, so could he. They were sitting alone by the fire, others asleep already with only one person on guard duty. Arthurs was once again busy with his journal but this time he was drawing something. Or someone, the drawing looked like a person but Sean couldn’t recognize whose portrait it was, only that this person had long hair, face wasn’t yet drawn. Arthur’s sweetheart perhaps? He had no idea if Morgan even had one and if he did, she was probably a secret.
It was his chance. Arthur was focused on his drawing when Sean reached his hand toward the older man’s hat. He didn’t even touch it yet when he saw a quick movement with a corner of his eye and the next thing he knew, there were fingers wrapped around his throat, dangerously close to crushing his Adam’s apple.
“Don’t. Touch. The hat.”
Slowly turning his head to look at him, Arthur articulated each word with such anger, that Sean was sure he wasn't just trying to steal a hat a few seconds ago but murdered someone close to Arthur. There was a fire in Morgan’s eyes when Sean looked into them and this fire had nothing to do with the flames in front of them.
He was never this close to dying by Arthur’s hands before and he was pretty sure it was really close right now. Fingers around his throat tightened, choking him, cutting the way for air to enter his lungs. It took a frantic nod from him to make Morgan loosen his grip and let go. Sean scurried away immediately while Arthur was still watching him, warning him with just his stare to never touch his hat again.
“Jesus, Morgan” Sean gasped, having trouble speaking, every word felt like a burning coale coming from his throat. He didn’t realize Arthur choked him that hard. “I just wanted to try it on. No need to kill a friend.”
“You’re not my friend, boy.”
Yet.
Sean thought he made a mistake going for the hat so early in their relationship. He was still new, obviously Arthur didn’t trust him, no wonder he reacted with anger at the stealing of the hat while John got away with it like it was nothing. John was his friend after all. They knew each other for years.
Next day, he asked other gang members if they ever tried to take Morgan’s hat. They laughed at him. And called him crazy. Apparently, being friends with Morgan wasn’t allowing you to steal his hat(or other things, especially the journal) like John did. And Sean even asked Hosea. That man was like a father to Arthur and yet he too couldn’t wear his hat, touch his journal or ride his horse.
So why was John so special?
Later that day, Marston did it again. Dutch gave him a job so he had to leave the camp. He prepared his horse, put a gun belt on his hips and as a finishing touch, he stole Arthur’s hat from his head, ruffling his hair while doing it and then rode off, saying he would return it tomorrow.
Sean was confused by all this but didn’t bother with finding an answer to why John could do something no one else could. It would probably get him killed and he had enough near death experience for now.
The only thing he knew was that Arthur Morgan was really fucking scary and that was enough for him.